


here is the place where i love you

by collegefangirl3791, skywalking-across-the-galaxy (BadWolfGirl01)



Series: lullabies [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Ahsoka Tano, Canon-Typical Violence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Declarations Of Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Finally, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Force-sensitive Kix, HOLY HAND GRENADES the pining, Heavy Angst, Hiding, Hugs, Hunger Games References, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Kidnapping, Literal Sleeping Together, Love Confessions, Mando'a, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PAAAAAIN, Padawan Lost/Wookiee Hunt, Panic Attacks, Physical Abuse, Pining, Post-Episode: s03ep22 Wookie Hunt, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romantic Angst, Running, Self-Sacrifice, Star-crossed, Storms, Suffering, The Force, The Force is So Done, Thunderstorms, Torture, Trandoshans are awful, Violence, WE WILL MAKE THIS A TAG, also in case y'all haven't guessed by now, gratuitous hunger games references, just kidding about that non graphic tag, of sorts, thinking the other is dead (briefly), with y'alls shit, wow that's a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-26 19:59:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 80,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15008318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collegefangirl3791/pseuds/collegefangirl3791, https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolfGirl01/pseuds/skywalking-across-the-galaxy
Summary: Ahsoka Tano really hates Felucia.It’s gross and hot and sticky, and the stupid--what’s the word Barriss uses? Bioluminescent, right. Everything, including the stupid tree things, literally glows in the dark.She does not understand it.The jungle is moldy and humid and dark, except it’s impossible for her eyes to adjust to the dark, because the trees are glowing. Which makes it hard.Kriffing kriff them. Whether their sap can cure some rare disease from the Outer Rim or not.[or: Padawan Lost/Wookiee Hunt, if Rex had been kidnapped too.]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> yep, here's the promised third fic! there's some fun stuff coming up, sooooo... no, the Literal Sleeping Together tag doesn't happen in this chapter, but we promise soon.... ;) we're playing with the canon of this fic in much the same way as we played with Zygerria/Kadavo in battle scars, so this fic should be close enough to canon to still be recognizable as these two episodes, while also having lots of fun new plot stuff to play with, plus relationship development and our two idiots finally getting their acts together!
> 
> warning for a pretty intense panic attack in this chapter.
> 
> title is from Rue's Lullaby from the Hunger Games soundtrack.

Ahsoka Tano  _ really hates _ Felucia.

It’s gross and hot and sticky, and the stupid--what’s the word Barriss uses?  _ Bioluminescent, _ right. Everything, including the stupid  _ tree things, _ literally  _ glows in the dark. _

She does  _ not _ understand it.

The jungle is moldy and humid and dark, except it’s impossible for her eyes to  _ adjust _ to the dark, because the trees are  _ glowing. _ Which makes it  _ hard. _

Kriffing kriff them. Whether their  _ sap _ can cure some rare disease from the Outer Rim or not.

“Droid reinforcements have just arrived,” Master Plo says, looking through his macrobinoculars, and Ahsoka swats a mosquito that dared to land on her headtail, flicks it away. Go suck someone else’s blood. “We should split into three groups and attack from all sides.”

Great, sounds like a great plan.

“I’ll take the left flank, Skywalker, you attack the front gate, and Ahsoka, you scale the back wall. We’ll meet in the middle.”

“Going through the front gate won’t be easy,” Ahsoka says, pushing herself to her feet, manages to keep her eyes on Anakin and not let them drift to Rex in his armor just behind.

Anakin makes a face, but he says, “You have it tougher going over that wall.”

She grins. (Kind of, it’s a bit more sour than it should be, but if he notices he doesn’t say anything.) “Don’t worry about me, Skyguy,” she says, cheerful as she can manage. “You taught me well. I can handle anything.” And then she  _ swears, _ because the dumb  _ karking _ tree decides to take that exact moment, of-kriffing- _ course, _ to drop a fat globule of glowing sap on her face. She hisses irritably, wipes at it, trying to ignore Anakin’s laughter.

“Everything except Barriss’ bioluminescent tree sap,” her Master says, and she flips a rude hand gesture at him. “Oh, shut it, Snips, you deserve it for spending the whole trek in  _ complaining.” _

“Like you weren’t  _ agreeing _ with everything I said,” she snarks back, scrubbing harder at her face, and he rolls his eyes.

“Here, let me help you with that,” and he steps forward and flicks his fingers, and most of the sap is gone. Which automatically makes her suspicious. She gives him a  _ look, _ and he grins innocently back at her, which just makes it  _ worse. _

“I don’t trust you,” she tells him, threateningly, jabbing a finger at him.

He snorts. “Snips, I’d be disappointed if you did.”

“What’d you  _ do?” _

“Me?” He gestures at himself, disbelievingly. “You sound like Obi-Wan.”

“Can we  _ focus, _ please,” Master Plo interrupts, sighing heavily, muttering something under his breath that sounds  _ suspiciously  _ like, “I am surrounded by children.”

“Yes, Master Plo,” Ahsoka says, quickly, though she scowls peevishly at Anakin when the other Master isn’t looking. (Tries not to notice the fact that Rex is watching her again--he’s been doing that a lot, lately. Before, she would’ve--but it doesn’t matter, now. She told him and he walked away anyway and so--and so that’s that. It’s over, she had her chance, she kriffed it all up, there’s no point in… in wishing.)

“Rex,” Anakin says, and the Captain straightens, “I want you going over the wall with Ahsoka. Watch her back.”

“Master!” She’s  _ fine, _ seriously. “I don’t need--”

“The last  _ two _ times you went anywhere, you almost died,” he says, sharply. “Forgive me for wanting to make sure you stay alive this time.”

Kriff him, but she understands. “Fine,” she huffs. “Right, let’s go, no use standing around.”

~~~

Campaigns on Felucia are never good ones. The first time Rex had been here, he was still a shiny, and he hadn’t had an opinion on the place except that it smelled bad.

Now, like many of his  _ vode _ , he’s been to Felucia  _ often _ , and Felucia does not improve on frequent acquaintance. Especially not the damn moldy ground, which makes it hard to move fast, and the thick undergrowth wherever there isn’t a tree. It’s not a good place for maneuvering, especially if you want to be quick.

Which Rex does, because a slow soldier is a dead soldier.

It doesn’t exactly help that he has to go with Ahsoka’s forces, because like it or not, she tries his ability to  _ focus _ and stay ready, pulls it thin and stretched back towards her like a thread he couldn’t quite sever.

It’s been hard.

He walks fairly close behind Ahsoka, their small force fanned out behind him through the brush, both DCs ready in front of him. It’s dark enough that the night vision of his HUD is on, although every time they pass one of the bioluminescent trees it turns off and then back on again. Which is kriffing annoying.

They’re all being near-silent, because they need the advantage of surprise and they’re listening in the damp for droids, so when Ahsoka comes to a sudden halt they all notice at once, all go still. Rex has to fight a smile when she turns partly around, eyes narrowed, because if she’s stopped, something definitely isn’t right, it’s just that - she’s  _ glowing _ , still. General Skywalker hadn’t pulled the sap off her face, had just… rearranged it, around her markings, to outline them, and so for all that she looks intent, concerned, she’s also shiny. Rex looks down from her face at her hand wrapped around her saber hilt.

“Hold up. I sense something out there,” she says, and Rex eases his fingers over the triggers of his blaster pistols.

“A droid?” he says, quiet.

Ahsoka tilts her head, like she’s listening, frowns. “I don’t think so.” She half-shrugs. “Probably just an animal.”

On Felucia, that’s not at all unlikely. And Ahsoka would know, if it was a droid. He thinks she still looks concerned, but if there’s anything more than an animal out there, he’s sure they’ll deal with it if and when it becomes a problem.

He doesn’t look up again until they’re back on the move and he won’t have to see her face with all the neat lines of glowing blue-green reflecting in her eyes.

~~~

The wall is  _ tall. _ Scaling it is going to be fun, ascension cables for sure, and she’ll have to jump hard. Which really isn’t that much of a problem, it’s just… it’s not a problem.

What  _ is _ a problem is the animal of sorts she can sense. On Felucia, the fact that she can sense  _ predator, _ sense  _ hunger _ and  _ bloodlust _ and a sort of twisted dark  _ eagerness _ she can’t quite parse out; it’s got her on edge, tensing at every noise, way beyond ‘high alert’. The Force is practically  _ shouting _ at her,  _ danger, _ and she grits her teeth and shakes herself, tries to  _ focus. _ This is a battle, there’s no time for worrying about whatever she feels (stalking her). They’ve got to get to that wall.

A moment later, she creeps through another layer of underbrush to find the wall of the airbase right in front of her; there’s a pair of droid sentries in towers on either side, and she eyes them carefully.

_ “Skywalker, Ahsoka, are you in position?” _

Ahsoka waits for Anakin to answer before she takes a deep breath, murmur, “We’re in position,” into her wristcomm. There’s a pause, during which the mixed bag of 501st and 104th troopers with her fall into position (and she tries not to focus on the fact that Rex is  _ right _ behind her, using his viewfinder to scout out the situation), and then the heavy artillery start to fire.

Which should draw the clankers out to Anakin’s position, making it easier for her and Master Plo, who have only small squads with them. Anakin at least has the bulk of the 501st backing him up. Still, she waits another minute or two before signalling them  _ forward, _ sending Comet and Sinker and Boost of the 104th up the wall on ascension cables, followed by Jesse, Tup, Dogma, and one of the newer 501st troopers, Brii. She keeps her ‘sabers out, her shoto in front of her to deflect and her longer green ‘saber back, ready to attack, her back to the wall, facing the forest.

_ (Intent, hunger, readiness, bloodlust.) _

She shudders, swallows hard. Rex is staying down with her, though he’s ready to ascend; she thinks that’s probably because of Anakin’s order to  _ watch her back. _ Because he can’t watch her back if he’s up there and she’s down here. “We’re clear, Commander, Captain,” Jesse calls down, “Come on up!”

She should. That’s the plan.

But there’s something…

“You go ahead, I’ll be right there,” she yells back, and takes a step towards the jungle, frowning. Something isn’t  _ right, _ here.

“Commander,” Rex asks, quietly, “what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Ahsoka shifts her weight more onto the balls of her feet, and then she sighs, frowns, shakes her head. “It’s probably nothing, let’s go.”

She switches her ‘sabers off, starts to turn, and then there’s a high-pitched whine too high for human ears and she  _ spins, _ just in time to get hit by a golden-glimmering web of electricity. She yelps, barely able to get any sound out before her muscles lock and she can’t  _ breathe, _ she’s choking, no no please, and her fingers sag open, her ‘saber hilts falling away, and there’s a strangled shout of, “Ahsoka!” and then she hits the ground and blackness comes.

~~~

Rex jolts awake and upright all in one adrenaline-fueled moment, cracks his head and shoulder against something unyielding before he can find awareness. He scrambles with one arm, forces his eyes open, blinks.

There’s a pattern of metal beneath him and against his reaching fingers. He’s got no armor, except his boots. And he focuses his eyes and there’s just criss-crossing durasteel in his field of vision, making the space small and tight and- and he draws himself lower, into a crouch, so he can’t feel the bars digging into him, and his attention shifts to  _ Ahsoka _ , who’s curled up on the floor of the- the  _ cage _ , and although he knows no one would bother putting her in a cage if she was  _ dead _ , he still reaches out, grabs her arm and presses his fingers to her wrist for a pulse.

It’s steady.

_ (They kept me in a cage that was too small for me _ , she tells him.  _ I didn’t fit. It hurt my arms _ .) He needs to get her out of here.

He sighs, lets go and twists around, looking around the space outside their cage (it’s too big and there’s too much  _ here _ ), catches the eye of some poor sentient nearby, also in a cage (why so many, what is this? slavers? Seppies?). “What ship is this?” he says, roughly, but trying to be calm, non-threatening. “Who are these people?”

The other prisoner leans forward across his knees. “They’re Trandoshans,” he says, and Rex quickly searches for familiarity with the name, but it turns out he needn’t have bothered: “They’re going to release us and hunt us down. For  _ sport _ .”

Shit.

This ship is huge, this whole hold is full of cages, and they took Ahsoka’s sabers and his armor and weapons. This isn’t going to be easy. Especially since it will not be on their terms.

He turns back around to lean a bit against the cage (although that is not safe, his back is too exposed) just as he hears rustling, sees Ahsoka shift a little. If he weren’t watching her so closely, if he didn’t know to pay attention, he wouldn’t know to recognize that the way all her muscles go tight and tense and she becomes as still as a frightened animal means she is waking up. She almost looks like she isn’t breathing, except he can hear her, faint and small. He shifts forward, just a little.

“Ahsoka?”

She flinches away, not as hard (he thinks) as she would have if he’d touched her, so he says her name again, gentler, and she opens her eyes, very slowly, like she doesn’t want to see, meets his gaze. He thinks she looks lost. Then she glances away from him, around at the cage, and he doesn’t want to move (for fear of frightening her) but he wants to put a hand on her shoulder or  _ something _ . Especially when she shudders, hard, and curls up in a ball again, hides her face against her arms and trembles.  _ Soundless _ . It’s scaring him, so he risks reaching over, touching her shoulder (firm and grounding and as neutral as he can make it). “Ahsoka,” he says. “Hey, you’re okay.”

She jerks her arms away from her face, twists to look at him again, eyes flicking over his face, and he tries for half a smile, doesn’t move. For just a second he isn’t sure what she’s going to do, she looks like a small, scared, hunted thing and Rex wants them  _ out of this cage _ . Then she wraps both arms tight around his, drops her face against his forearm, and he does what he  _ always _ does, what she needs him to, and adjusts so he can pull her half into his lap and put his free arm around her shoulders, soothes his fingers down her back headtail (hesitantly at first). And she’s still  _ too quiet _ .

~~~

At first, she can’t let herself  _ believe _ he’s here.

He can’t be, they wouldn’t want him, wouldn’t take him, they--they only wanted her because she’s Force-sensitive, he isn’t, so he’d be safe from them. (She wants him.)

But then he  _ keeps _ saying her name, and he puts a hand on her shoulder, and she can  _ feel him, _ warm and  _ present, _ and she stares up at him again. Looks at her Rex, at his face, because--is it possible he’s  _ here? _ With her? Even though--

She decides not to question it, wraps so so tight around his arm and hides her face again, makes herself small and slow and  _ quiet, _ still as stone, moving in blinks. They don’t like it when she cries, so she doesn’t. Holds her breath, makes it shallow, barely a rasp against her throat, just enough to keep her  _ thinking. _ She can’t breathe too loud or they’ll  _ hear, _ they’ll  _ know, _ she has to be quiet and she has to be small.

Rex pulls her against his chest and she unwraps herself from his arm, grabs his chest instead and presses her face against him and  _ shakes, _ breathes careful, in and out and in and out, just enough. Not too much or it’ll be loud. Can’t make noise, can’t… can’t tell them she’s awake, or they’ll come. She doesn’t want them to come.

Rex runs a hand down her headtail and she shudders soft, tilts just a little into the pressure, because he is  _ safe _ and so she will be okay, as long as he is here. “It’s okay, ‘Soka,” he says, and she presses her forehead harder into his chest, swallows a sound. Can’t make noise. Quiet, quiet, quiet, like a pool, like stillness, like meditation. Meditation. Meditation, he--Master Plo, he taught that,  _ reach for the quiet and the warmth, little ‘Soka, let the fear go away, the Light will help, _ and she needs-- “Hey, I’m here, I’ve got you, ‘Soka, I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

_ You will be safe with me, little ‘Soka, I promise. _

Safe.

So she breathes, she--reaches, for the Light, the quiet, the warmth, the safety of it, lets the fear go away, tightens her arms around Rex. And she is cold and small and scared, but she--Rex has her, he says,  _ I’ve got you, ‘Soka, _ so she’s safe. They can’t come when he’s here, he’ll chase them away, she’ll be okay, there’s warmth humming across her skin and flickering through her thoughts and she is  _ safe. _

Rex has her, and ‘Soka is safe.

~~~

Ahsoka is so, so strong, Rex knows. She’s wiry and quick and  _ tough _ , the first one to run into a battle and usually the one to finish it, and he’s seen her do things he thinks should be  _ impossible _ . He’d bet on her most every time, in a fight (or an argument, for that matter), and yet. And yet she feels so very, very small, more than after the Son or on Lola Soyu or even the virus on Naboo.

So he keeps her tucked very close, and traces patterns (sometimes follows her chevrons, sometimes just traces symbols, jaig eyes, Mando’a letters) across her headtails, soothing as he can, repeats that she’s safe, and is  _ still _ (part of him is vigilant, waiting for their captors, for whatever’s coming next).

Eventually, she stops shaking so hard, takes easier breaths and stops digging her fingers into his back, and Rex looks down at her, leaves his hand against her headtail. “Hey, ‘Soka. You’re okay.”

She eases back away from his chest a little, eyes darting past him to the ship’s hold, scanning everything, and Rex is painfully grateful that everything is so quiet. Then she pulls one arm from around his side, signals  _ danger _ with a questioning look and a tilt of her head.

He shakes his head. “No, we’re clear right now,” he says, quietly, even though it doesn’t matter if anyone hears him. “You okay, ‘Soka?”

She sets the hand not around his waist against his chest, looks down. “I don’t- I’m sorry.”

“You’re fine,” he says, although he doesn’t know what she’s apologizing for. “Not the best way to wake up, I know.”

~~~

‘Soka sighs tiredly, curls up against Rex’s chest again--there’s not much room in this, this, cage, and she’s--she hates cages. Rex is safe, though, and he said--they aren’t coming, talking is safe, this is okay. They’re okay. She’ll be safe. Even if--even if they come.

“I don’t like cages,” she says finally, closing her eyes with a soft sigh.

“Yeah,” Rex says, shifting his hand up and down her headtail again. “Me neither.”

“I can’t feel Anakin.” She doesn’t mean to say it, but the words slip out too fast and she can’t bite them back, even though she wants to. And so he knows, then--knows the secret, that while she can tell the training bond is still  _ there, _ it’s thin and stretched, and she can tell just enough to know he’s  _ panicked _ but that’s it. She can’t  _ talk _ to him, can’t even project, can only barely feel her Master’s terror and guilt.

“Didn’t you say you were connected to him?” he asks, and she tilts her head back to look up at him, eyes wide and worried.

“Yes, I should--I’ve never not been able to feel him before. Except--” and she swallows, looks at his chest. “On Mortis. When  _ he _ had me. I couldn’t feel him then. Didn’t want to.”

He traces his fingers over her headtails again, a pattern she feels like she should vaguely recognize, says quietly, “Maybe we’re just far away.”

She nods, just a little twitch of her head, not wanting to dislodge his hand. “Yeah,” she murmurs, raspy, dry, swallows. “Maybe.” A breath. “What’re you drawing?”

He goes still, a moment, before his finger starts moving again, light and gentle. “Jaig eyes.”

“Jaig eyes?” and she tilts her head into his hand a bit, closes her eyes and sighs softly. “What’s that?”

“I’ve got ‘em on my bucket,” he says. “They’re a… Mandalorian combat honor. For bravery, and all that shit.”

A symbol of bravery, then. She smiles, just a little, says quietly, “You deserve them.”

“Thanks,” he says, awkwardly, shifting a bit, and she hums and tilts more into his hand, letting out another breath.

“Where are we?” she finally asks, after a few minutes, because it’s important to know.

“A Trandoshan freighter,” Rex tells her. “One of the other captives said they’re going to release us and hunt us down for sport.”

For  _ sport? _ She mumbles a Huttese swear, kicks at the wall of the cage with one foot, lightly, and sighs. “Kriff. So--we need a plan. For how not to die. And how to get back.”

~~~

Rex sighs, tries to adjust himself so he’s not so hunched over, because it’s making him achy. He can’t decide, though, if he’d rather be  _ out _ of the cage, where it will mean being  _ hunted _ , apparently, or stuck here where there’s some idea that they’re safe for the moment.

He thinks he’d rather be able to fight.

“Yeah,” he says, shifts again and rolls his shoulders back a little. “If they let us out and they give us time,” because it’s possible that  _ hunting them for sport _ may just mean a bloodbath as they all try to run, he doesn’t know, “we’d have to get cover somewhere. We don’t have weapons, and they will. And I don’t have any of my emergency kit, so we have to find water, if that’s something we  _ can _ do.” He pulls his hand away from her headtails, massages his right forearm, just enough pressure around the wrist, reassuring. “If we don’t have water and cover then we’re kriffed.”

She leans her head against his chest, and he has to tilt up his chin to avoid her montrals. “So shelter, water, food, and then… recon?” He nods. He doesn’t know  _ anything _ about where they’re going to end up, or what will happen, or who the Trandoshans  _ are _ , or what kind of  _ hunting _ this even is. Although  _ for sport _ has dangerous implications, says long and drawn out and stacked odds. “I don’t think we should split up,” Ahsoka says.

“No,” Rex agrees. Everything he knows says that unity is safety - that’s  _ basic _ , cadet stuff. And out of the two of them, Ahsoka, with the Force, is the one that will have a distinct advantage here - able to be faster, tougher, actually  _ fight back _ if she has to, do any number of Jedi tricks. He’s just got his training.

Which, in fairness, is nothing to scoff at.

“We stay together,” he says, flatly, “If we can. That would be to our best advantage, especially if one of us gets hurt.” He uncomfortably manages to get his legs out from under him, out partly in front of him, unbalancing Ahsoka (who grabs onto his shoulders to hang on) and making him have to press too close and hard against the bars for a moment - but then it’s better because he can feel his legs again, has a little more space to sit without curling forward so much.

“We need to avoid getting hurt at all costs - I have a feeling there’s going to be a lot of running, and if we’re hurt we can’t run.”

Rex snorts, wryly. “Wise. Although I don’t think these Trandoshans, whoever they are, knew what they were getting themselves into, taking a Jedi.”

She frowns, shaking her head. “Either that, or they knew  _ exactly _ what they were getting themselves into, Rex.”

Rex would prefer not to think that way. If these Trandoshans can handle  _ Jedi _ , what chance do they really have? She, a padawan with no sabers, and he just a clone.

“They knew how to capture me,” she says, foreboding heavy in her voice.

“Anyone can get lucky,” Rex answers, tense. “Maybe we’d be wise to assume you’re right, though.” Better to make their enemies out to be more dangerous than they are than to underestimate them.

~~~

Ahsoka curls a bit more into Rex’s chest and sighs, returns one arm to wrap around his chest, leaves the other hand light on his shoulder and closes her eyes. She knows she  _ shouldn’t _ be--be doing this, shouldn’t let herself get so close, because he doesn’t--want her to be. But he’s warm and safe and she’s  _ missed him, _ so much, has missed this. “I think we would be,” she murmurs, softly, and sighs. “The Force is… I don’t like this, Rex.”

“I never do,” he grumbles, almost churlishly, sighs. “We’ll be alright, though, we’ve dealt with worse.”

“The Force isn’t  _ that _ bad,” Ahsoka says, offended. “Just because you don’t understand it doesn’t mean it’s  _ wrong.” _

“The Force  _ hurts.” _ He glares down at her. “Why do I need to understand it if it  _ hurts?” _

She blinks, tilts her head back so she can frown up at him. “Well, but that’s because you aren’t  _ supposed _ to feel it, Rex.” He looks away and she sighs. Right. Too close. Thinks about looking down, but now he’s not looking at her, so she can watch him for a minute, watch the way the molten gold of his eyes shifts and changes hues, minutely. It reminds her of the polished rock collection one of the Initiates a couple years younger than her, Caleb, had always been chattering about. He’d had this one stone that would change shades of gold when you tilted it, a pure, bright Sith-gold to honey and amber to a dark chocolate brown, to something the shade of caf with milk, and then back again. Rex’s eyes are like that, she thinks, something warm and ever-changing and rich, like stormlight and electricity trapped in crystal. 

For a moment, she can’t remember what she was saying, and she blinks, has to search her mind, and right--the Force. “It doesn’t hurt Jedi, at least not normally--except when it’s all too much, but…” But he doesn’t need to hear about that. “That’s why I had a headache. There’s…” and really she should stop talking now. “There’s this thing called Force burn, it happens when a Jedi channels too much Force without rest. Gives you really bad headaches and makes it really hard to reach for the Force and stuff.”

“Is that supposed to make me  _ like _ the Force more?” Rex asks, dry as dust, as Tatooine, and she giggles.

“You don’t have to like it,” she says, grins up at him, lifts her hand from his shoulder and lightly taps his nose. “Just respect it.”

“Ahsoka,” he says, gently, warning, leans back a little, and she sighs, drops her hand down. Damn it.

“Anyway,” she says, returning her hand to his shoulder,  _ “I _ like the Force, so shush.”

~~~

Ahsoka is just, so  _ close _ , muscle and softness against his chest, her thumb soothing back and forth over his collarbone almost absently. He wishes she wouldn’t  _ do this _ , he told her, he  _ can’t _ . But there’s nothing he can really do, about her closeness, there’s nowhere for them to go. Still, he catches her hand against his shoulder and pulls it away, gentle, not meeting her eyes. She tries to twist her fingers between his, and he sighs, curls that hand into a fist and tucks his arms in close to him, wraps his other hand around his wrist.

Ahsoka leans in against his chest, sighing, and for a minute he thinks she’s going to be still, at least. But then she starts skimming her fingers over the curve of his shoulder, down his bicep.

Rex grits his teeth and tries his level best not to notice.

It doesn’t work.

“Ahsoka,” he says, tightly, “please stop that.”

Her fingers still, and she looks down, swallowing. “Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… You just, don’t have your armor on, and it-” She stops.

“Never mind,” Rex says, placating, short. He shifts again, and then there’s new sounds and he suddenly has  _ other  _ things to think about. Ahsoka flinches against him, and he grabs her shoulder, automatically, feels her grab onto him in turn, shivering. It’s mechanical, loud, metal on metal all at once, everywhere. Their  _ cage _ clangs too, and he hangs on tighter to Ahsoka, tries to ready himself to  _ move _ , if he must.

The door of their cage slides open, and Rex doesn’t wait, just jolts out of the cage, half-dragging Ahsoka with him, finding his feet and straightening up, reaching for his blasters before remembering they aren’t there.

The other cages are open too, and some of the prisoners also rush out, although others don’t seem to want to move. Rex lets go of Ahsoka after being sure she’s on her feet - she doesn’t look good, really, but  _ they’re going to release us and hunt us down for sport _ , so comfort just isn’t important right now. Survival is.

It’s all silent for another moment, and that’s  _ not good _ , but as more prisoners start getting to their feet, there’s a heavy, shaking jolt (Rex and Ahsoka sway, keep their balance), the freighter landing, most likely. Rex balls his hands into fists, finds a firmer stance on the durasteel floor - next to him, Ahsoka has crouched a little too, like she’s about to begin a saber form.  _ Force _ , Rex wants his blasters, his armor.

And the massive bay door of the freighter starts to lower, slow, noisy, and Rex squints, doesn’t look directly out for a moment until the sudden flood of sunlight becomes manageable. This is definitely a trap, a set-up, a  _ game _ .

Sport.

But out of this ship will be better - Rex has fought campaigns on more planets than he can count, can adapt to almost anything. So has Ahsoka. They can do this.

But he and Ahsoka wait nonetheless, because to just run straight out into the unknown would be suicide. Ease forward, matching each other step for step, some of the braver prisoners following.

And then someone says, “Just  _ go _ , just  _ get out _ , this is our chance!” and Ahsoka flings a fist up, and Rex twists around.

“Stand  _ down! _ ”

But the speaker, a young Zabrak woman, sprints past them, and Rex and Ahsoka both jolt after her, but she has the speed of panic and Ahsoka shouts, “Kriffing  _ listen to me! _ ”

But she’s gone already, down the ramp, and as her feet hit the sand (a beach, then, or desert), there’s the scream of blaster bolts, flashes of red, and the woman collapses.

Rex tightens his fists, meets Ahsoka’s eyes. She looks stricken, for a second, then she spins around to face the rest of the prisoners, who are wavering (Rex thinks) on the edge of panic. “You saw what happened. If you rush out there blindly you’ll all get  _ killed _ .”

Rex doesn’t know how they won’t anyway, but then - if this is a game, it would hardly be  _ fun _ to kill all the players straight away.

Which means there will be  _ some _ way to get through. If anyone can find that way, it would be his- his Commander.

~~~

Ahsoka can’t deny the fear thrilling through her, dancing across her skin like sparks, but she pushes that away, focuses on the mission. It’s just like a campaign, except the only trained soldier she has is Rex, and the rest are panicked civvies who have no reason to trust her.

“Look,” she says, as soothingly as she can. “My name’s Ahsoka Tano. I’m a Jedi Commander for the Republic, I’ve been in situations like this before. If you’ll just listen to me, I think I know a way to get as many of us away from here alive.” A pause. “Or you can just all run out panicked, and not listen to me, and die just like that girl.”

The silence is heavy, and she wonders how long she’ll have before the Trandoshans send someone in to come see what’s wrong.

“Okay, so look. This is all for sport, right? It’s a  _ game. _ It wouldn’t be fun if everybody got shot down as they leave the ship.” She frowns, tilts her head to one side, considering. “Actually, I bet this is a sort of test, a--bloodbath of sorts, like… figuring out which of us are going to be  _ fun,” _ and she twists her face into a grimace, sighs. Sees several of them shift, panicky, and grits her teeth around a swear. “Look, anyway, the  _ point _ is, there’s gotta be cover out there somewhere.” Blank looks. Right, civvies. “Like, rocks, trees, things you can  _ hide behind. _ So here’s what we do: Rex and I will get down to the edge of the ramp, figure out a route, and then I’ll have Rex lead you guys to the closest cover. I can redirect blaster bolts, somewhat, it’s--not easy, and it takes a lot of focus, but I think I can protect us pretty well. Make sense?”

There’s a long silence, and then someone says, voice quavering, “How are you sure this will work?”

“I’ve done it before,” Ahsoka says, calmly confident. “Except I had lightsabers with me, which these bastards took away. But I’m a  _ Jedi, _ I’m not useless just because I don’t have my glowy swords.”

“What do we do when we get away from the ship?” another person asks.

She takes a deep breath. “Run. Get as far away as you can, find somewhere to hide. None of you will be able to keep up with me.” A pause. “Ready?”

There’s shouting from somewhere, and she swears softly. They’re out of time. So she nods at Rex, slips careful and quiet to the edge of the platform, just barely sheltered by the edge of the ship. There’s some scattered fallen trees, knotted wood and vines and clumps of rocks haphazard across the beach, which is wide and sweeping, a blue, blue ocean on one side, a tangled forest with massive forest giants not far. Maybe fifty meters. An easy sprint, really. For her and Rex, at least.

“Okay,” she says, waves the civvies forward. “You guys see that pile of dead brush? Make for that. Rex, you take point, I’ll cover our flank.”

Rex does  _ not _ look pleased, but he growls out, “Yes, sir. Stay  _ close,” _ and that last bit is to the civvies, who crowd closer and nod, eyes wide. There’s panic and terror and horror and a little bit of anger shrieking through the Force, and she takes a careful breath.

“Go, Rex.”

He nods, once, gestures in a universal  _ come on _ movement, and takes off across the sand with all the focused speed of a soldier, and she lets her eyes linger on him for just a moment before she snaps her attention to the incoming blaster bolts.

Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes, lets the Force guide her, showing her where the the bolts are, where they’ll hit, like she would when she’s trying to deflect bolts only  _ more, _ and then she leaps off the ramp and keeps her eyes closed (follows, instinctively, the Force-signatures to her left) and starts  _ pushing. _

It’s hard work, too hard almost, with the running, to nudge the bolts  _ away, _ and she misses some or makes a mistake and they die, some of them, and she can  _ feel _ it as their Force-signatures wink out, little lights dying, fading away, extinguished in one cruel stroke. It’s not until she nearly falls over something that she pulls her eyes open, just in time to stumble against Rex--he grabs her and jerks her down behind cover just as a blaster bolt flies through the air right where her head had been. 

Shavit.

“How many did we lose?” she asks, soft, worried, and he shrugs.

“Less than would’ve died otherwise.” It’s not a real answer, but she thinks she doesn’t really want to know. “Are you alright?”

She swallows, nods. “Yeah. Good enough for now.” They’re only about twenty meters from the forest edge now, a short sprint. (She could almost Force-jump the distance.) “They need to run, not in a clump, but further apart. Random paths. Harder to predict. I can’t keep up the level of focus for much longer, Rex, I’ll only be able to protect the two of us.”

He nods, calm and steady. “That’s fine, sir. I’ll tell them, you catch your breath.”

Kriff him, she’s  _ fine. _ Mostly. It’s just hard work, that’s all, but she doesn’t need… or maybe it’d be smart to just… listen, for once. Right. She clenches her jaw but nods, takes a deep breath and settles against the sunbaked sand. It’s warm against her cool skin, feels nice on sore, achy muscles, and she sighs, stretches her arms and legs and just  _ breathes. _

A moment or two passes, and then Rex says, “Ready?”

She nods, without looking up, stares down at the sand for a moment. And then there’s a hand in her peripheral vision, and she looks up to see Rex offering her his hand. She manages a half-smile, takes his hand and lets him pull her to her feet, and then--

And then they run, amid screams and panic and blasterfire, sand shifting beneath her boots and making it hard to stay balanced, until finally the softness of the sand turns to hard-packed earth, firm and unyielding, and she gains purchase, traction. Runs until her side is burning and she’s far, far away from the beach and the blood and the screaming, and then she slows to a walk, leans over and puts her hands on her knees and gulps in great, desperate, jagged breaths. Rex does the same, beside her, says wryly, “That could’ve been worse.”

She snorts, sharp. “We could’ve  _ died, _ yeah,” she says, bitter. “Or been shot, which is close enough to the same thing right now.”

~~~

“Well, we weren’t,” Rex says, glancing around the clearing they’ve stopped in,  _ massive _ tree trunks rising up around them (not so large as the trees on Kashyyyk, but close, he thinks). He doesn’t like that they lost  _ civilians _ , that they had to let them fend for themselves, but the truth of the matter is that he and Ahsoka would not be able to keep them all safe anyway, and a large group of inexperienced sentients traveling together would attract too much attention.

They are good reasons, but this still isn’t a  _ good _ thing.

There’s a good-sized outcropping of rock jutting out of the ground, between trees, and Rex gestures for Ahsoka to follow him, leans back against it for a moment. This planet at least seems fairly basic, likely to have lifeforms good for food, running water. They don’t have  _ time _ to be still, he  _ knows _ that instinctively, but still. It feels good, having the stone at his back.

It’s probably for the best that he’s just in blacks and boots; it’s subtler, quieter, will be less  _ weight _ , make it easier to run and to hide. But armor is  _ protection _ , and means he’s safe, can fight. Now he has nothing, not even his vibroblade. He sighs, eases his breathing back under control, and sweeps his fingers back and forth over the inside of his wrist.

“We need to find somewhere to hide,” he says. They still don’t know anything about the hunters, what scanners they have, how they track, whether they meant to take a Jedi or not,  _ any of it _ . Except that this is for  _ fun _ , their hunters want them to be  _ afraid _ , and ultimately all the advantage will probably rest with their enemies.

Except that Rex has a Jedi, which counts for a  _ lot _ , in his experience.

“I know,” Ahsoka says, but she seems distracted, head tilted in that listening way that Rex has come to know means she’s paying attention to the Force. He drops his hands to his sides, leans forward a little off the rock at his back, looking around at ground level for movement.

The last time Ahsoka thought she sensed something, it did  _ not _ turn out well, got them here.

“Wait,” she says, sharp. And three small figures drop down in front of them, crouched (Cerean, Human, Twi’lek), fierce.

Before he can move -  _ to protect his Jedi, he has to take care of her _ \- Ahsoka has shoved in front of him, pressed him back against the stone, and he thinks if he could, he’d feel the Force drawn close around her as she settles into a battle-ready stance and  _ growls _ , a predatory sound low in her throat. And he  _ does _ feel the Force when she speaks, persuasion he remembers from training (and Ventress) thick in the words. “ _ Back. Off _ .”

Rex sees the three (children, they are  _ children _ ) freeze, swayed by the persuasion a little, and Rex pushes carefully off the rock again, taking in how thin and desperate they are, hollow-eyed, wary. He thinks Ahsoka must see it too, because while she doesn’t move from in front of him, she does relax her stance just a little.

He keeps a wary eye on them, as they’re the threat (or at least, a semblance of a threat), and because then he’s not paying attention to the tension in Ahsoka’s shoulders or the half-snarl still in her voice,  _ protective _ .

~~~

_ Threat. _

Her instincts  _ scream _ it, shout  _ danger _ at her, and Ahsoka holds herself frozen, still, every muscle tense and ready to fight still, the Force gathering around her, sparks on her skin, just in case. Even though these are children, too-thin and hollow and empty, bitter and hardened and tired. They are threatening her, and they are threatening  _ Rex, _ and that is not allowed.

And she is trapped, back to a wall, a loth-wolf snarling in a corner, and it is all she can do not to attack.

(They threatened  _ her Rex, _ and  **_mine_ ** that voice whispers again, and she doesn’t fight it.)

“What do you  _ want,” _ she hisses, low and threatening still, gritting her teeth, and Rex puts a hand on her shoulder, careful, calm, steadying. She takes a deep breath, reaches for the Force again, struggles to drain away the anger, the fear, the tangled knot of emotions she can’t seem to get rid of, relaxes just enough under his touch that the three children (Force-sensitive, she can feel it, the burning brightness of their Force-signatures) in front of her, Human girl, male Cerean and Twi’lek, look a bit less  _ scared. _ Takes another breath, says, “What do you want?” again, but a bit calmer, slower, easier.

“Come--come with us,” the girl says (she’s the leader, the other two look to her), “if you want to live.”

She cocks her head to one side, frowns. “Why?”

“Not him,” bursts out the Twi’lek, “just you. He’s not one of  _ us.” _

She tenses again, says, very calm, very controlled, icy, “If you think I’d leave  _ my Captain _ behind for some,” and she trails her eyes meaningfully over their dirty clothes, “younglings, you’re wrong, and you might as well leave now.”

~~~

Rex pulls on Ahsoka’s shoulder a little, eases her back towards him. “Take it easy, sir,” he says, quietly. Then he looks at the Human girl, with her dark hair and defiant glare. “You wanna explain what you’re talking about?” He’s quiet, calm, like talking to a  _ vod _ after his first battle.

“She needs to come with us,” says the girl, tightly. Her voice is hoarse. “We’ve been here for a long time.” She switches her focus to Ahsoka, eases her weight from leg to leg. “We can show you how to survive here. But he won’t be able to keep up.”

Rex settles his arms behind his back, steps up next to Ahsoka, who’s got her chin jutted out stubbornly, eyes flashing. “I bet we can find a way to fix that.”

The kids all look at each other, and Rex thinks they don’t know what to do. He still feels like he’s missing information, so he nods at them, patient. “You all don’t look so good yourselves. Why wouldn’t I be able to keep up?”

“You’re not  _ like us _ ,” the Twi’lek boy says again. “We were Jedi younglings. Your friend is a Padawan. No offense, but you’d just slow us down.”

“Maybe,” Rex says noncommittally, looks over at Ahsoka. Banding together with three Force-sensitives seems like a wise idea, especially if they’ve survived here for any length of time. But if he actually  _ can’t _ keep up with them (which seems likely), then they may have a problem.

“Rex is one of the best clone troopers in the entire GAR,” Ahsoka snaps, and Rex huffs a small breath through his nose. “He can keep up. We’re a package deal; we’re not splitting up.”

Rex is glad for the vote of confidence, but he can’t help but worry that he  _ will _ slow them down; veteran clone or no, he’s not a  _ Jedi _ . “Sir-” he starts, hesitant, and Ahsoka rounds on him with a scowl that cuts him off, says she knows what he was thinking.

“You said we’re sticking together, and I’m holding you to that,” she says.

And Rex doesn’t want to leave her, and she’s right, so he nods.

The younglings look at each other again, and then the girl inclines her head once, sharp. “ _ Fine _ . I’m Kalifa. This is O-Mer,” nodding at the Cerean boy, “and Jinx.” The Twi’lek crosses his arms, and does  _ not _ look pleased at all.

“I’m Ahsoka, and this is Rex,” his Jedi says, still biting off the ends of her words. It’s more reassuring than it should be, that she’s so protective of him. “I’m Anakin Skywalker’s padawan, and he’s the Captain of the 501st legion.”

The younglings shift, and the girl, Kalifa, loses some of the  _ hardness _ in her expression, looks instead vulnerable and uncertain. “You’re- You’re  _ his _ padawan?” she says, tentative, and Rex smiles a little.

~~~

Ahsoka relaxes, just a tiny bit, doesn’t  _ quite _ let herself smile, though she wants to. “Yeah,” she says, a bit less short, nods. “I am. We were fighting on Felucia with Master Plo when those  _ pirates _ took us.”

“How’d--how’d they take you, if you’re  _ his _ padawan?” It’s the Cerean, O-mer.

She snorts, rolls her eyes. “I was leading a squad and I stayed back to watch their flank--”

“You get to  _ lead your own squads?” _ Kalifa’s eyes go wide. “Is--is Knight Skywalker really the Chosen One?”

She  _ does _ laugh, this time. “Yeah,” she says, grinning. “We were on this one mission to a planet called Mortis, and I watched him control actual  _ Force gods.” _

Even Jinx looks impressed by this. “You really think he can keep up?” the Twi’lek asks, and Ahsoka nods.

“Yeah. I promise.” She pauses, then adds, “He can keep up with Anakin  _ and _ Master Obi-Wan while we’re running from commando droids on speeders, so…”

“Woah,” says O-mer, under his breath. 

“You know  _ Master Kenobi?” _ Kalifa again.

“He’s like a second Master to me,” she says, and smirks a little. “Weren’t you saying something about  _ come with us if you want to live?” _

“Yeah, we gotta move,” Kalifa says, worriedly. “We go through the trees. Can he get up there?”

Ahsoka looks at Rex, raises an eyebrow. “The rock, you think?”

He grits his teeth, says, “I  _ really _ kriffing hate heights, Ahsoka,” and she snorts.

“So that’s a yes.”

Kalifa nods, and the three younglings leap up into the trees, again, and Ahsoka meets Rex’s (golden-warm like stormlight) eyes for just a minute, reassuring, says, “You’ll be fine, Rexter.”

And then, with that, she leaps up onto the nearest branch, finds her feet, and then runs lightly down towards the huge trunk--if Rex climbs up the rock and into the tree, the easiest spot will be right here. She’ll just have to wait for him, to help him up. Just in case.

~~~

Rex vaults lightly up onto the rock they’d been leaning against, paces up to the highest point of it, and eyes the nearest low branch balefully. Too precarious.

But better than staying here. Better than being shot. (Marginally.)

He eyes the distance, then jumps, catches the branch and hefts himself up onto it, sets his feet under him, finds his balance for a moment. It’s much easier, without his armor. Ahsoka grabs his upper arm, pulls him upright, and he sees the younglings watching him. They still think he’s going to slow them down.

He’s not, though - he  _ can’t _ .

So he nods, and they whip around like nervous foxes and take off half-running through the branches. And Rex pushes himself to follow, although  _ kriff his life _ , he is not a  _ bird _ and he does  _ not _ belong up here and he has to very intentionally  _ not think about  _ anything except the younglings ahead of him, pretending he’s just on uneven terrain. Not in the air.

Where if he slips he falls to his death.

He’s pretty sure he thought this was a good idea when they started, for some reason.  _ Kriff _ .

Ahsoka’s close behind him the whole time, and he’s fairly sure at one point that the only reason he doesn’t  _ slip _ is because she nudges him with the Force.

There’s no sound or sight of the hunters, and Rex isn’t sure if that’s because the younglings know what they’re doing or because they aren’t being pursued yet, but he’ll take it. Although he’ll have to ask the children who  _ exactly _ these Trandoshans are.

The unfortunate thing is, if the younglings are all here, that might mean the Trandoshans capture Jedi  _ on purpose _ .

They’ve been steadily climbing higher for what Rex would guess is about seventy or so standard minutes, fast but not as if they’re panicked, and the branches have gotten farther apart, more of the sky visible, the big trees shivering in the wind. There’s a wide hollow in another tree, and to Rex’s alarm, Jinx clambers lightly across a branch that extends out between the two trees, balances a second, and then  _ jumps _ , across the short remaining distance and into the hollowed out space.

Oh, they can _ not _ be serious. He is not  _ jumping _ across there, as high above the ground as they are, that’s- kriff it.

O-Mer and Kalifa leap across, easy, and then it’s  _ Rex’s _ turn, aw gods. He grits his teeth, eases out to the end of the branch (and it only sways a little, but it’s enough to drop him into a low, anxious crouch). “Don’t like this,” he mutters to himself.

“Just jump, Rex, I’ll give you a push,” Ahsoka says, and he’s  _ pretty sure _ she’s  _ amused _ .

Rex sighs, eases himself up a little, and launches himself across the distance ( _ kriff kriff kriff him _ ), feels a  _ shove _ against his back and ends up sprawled into the hollow in the tree, on his stomach.

At least he didn’t fall to his death,  _ karking hells _ .

He pushes himself upright, looks around - and this, this feels  _ safe _ . It’s high up, far from the beach and the ground, and it’s a  _ huge _ , almost cave-like space, weathered wood and signs of being lived in. He twists his hand tight around his right wrist, walks further into the tree to sit down.

Good enough, for now.

~~~

Apparently, she doesn’t need to push quite so hard, Ahsoka muses, smirking a little as she watches Rex sprawl on the floor of the hollow. She waits until he gets up, moves out of the way, before she leaps lightly across the gap and lands, easy as breathing, crosses the room and eyes it curiously.

It’s nice, really. They’ve clearly spent time in here, she thinks, watching as Jinx crouches down to light a fire in a hollow in the center of the circular space. There’s what looks like some food stored up (and she tries not to think about the fact that it’s been who knows how many hours since the last time she ate anything), and water in gourds. Could use blankets and pillows, she decides, dropping to sit cross-legged next to Rex on the floor, but overall, it’s nice. Homey.

“Here,” Kalifa says, digging into the meager food stores, holding out a basket of woven twigs, filled with what looks like foraged greens and berries and roots. “It’s all safe to eat. We don’t have much, but we’ll share everything--tomorrow, you can help us get more.”

Ahsoka nods, says, “Thank you, Kalifa,” quietly, takes the basket and picks out a handful of berries she thinks she vaguely recognizes, and some large tuber thing, hands the rest to Rex. He takes it, albeit dubiously.

Says, “You should eat more than that, Ahsoka.”

She snorts. “Eat what you want, Rex, I’ll take more if I want it. Nice change from rations, though, right?”

“I suppose,” he says, squints suspiciously at a leafy green thing. Ends up pulling out another one of the tubers, eyeing it much more appreciatively. “No offense, but just about  _ anything _ beats rations. Especially when you make them, Ahsoka.”

She splutters. “It was  _ one time!” _ Kriff him. “Kriffing--shut  _ up, _ it’s not like you can cook either--”

“Ahsoka,” he says, very patient,  _ “everyone _ can make rations. Except, apparently, you.”

“That is  _ not true,” _ and she crosses her arms, pouts at him. “Hardcase ate them!”

“Hardcase eats everything, he’s like a karking garbage chute,” and then he grimaces, huffs. “None of the rest of us could eat them.”

She punches his shoulder, light.

He raises an eyebrow. “Was that supposed to hurt?”

“I can punch you a  _ lot harder _ if you’re gonna be an  _ ass _ about it,” she snaps, notices Kalifa hiding a grin and O-mer and Jinx staring with very wide, confused eyes.

~~~

Rex nibbles suspiciously at the tuber he picked out, and once he decides it’s palatable, rolls his eyes at Ahsoka and takes a large, deliberate bite. “You can’t take advantage of the fact I have no armor like that,” he says, around a mouthful of his food. It’s not bad. Should give him plenty of energy until they can get more tomorrow - maybe longer if he has to. He supposes he should try some of the other food too, but… leaves.

He can’t really afford to be picky, though.

Ahsoka humphs, throws a berry at his head (which he catches, pops into his mouth), then eats one with a small grumbling sound. Rex turns to look at the younglings, who are all in varying stages of confusion.

“How long have you been here?” he asks, takes another bite of his tuber. It does not improve on the second bite, although it also doesn’t get worse. It’s just more or less tasteless. The berry had been good though. He’ll have to have more of those. Then that should be enough.

He’s more concerned about water.

“Jinx and O-mer have been here about a year,” Kalifa says, stiffly, also starting to eat. “I’ve been here for two.”

Rex looks down, sobered. Children. They’re just  _ children _ . And two years, for this Human girl.

Kalifa turns away, props her legs up on a worn groove in the wood, and stares bitter and disappointed at nothing. “Your Master may be Knight Skywalker, but no one’s coming for you. They never do. They cant.”

Rex looks over at Ahsoka, quiet, and she scowls. “Then I’ll get back to him,” she says sharply, and Kalifa just shakes her head a little and focuses on her food. Rex sighs and finishes his tuber, glances at the basket of food. He can have one more handful, maybe those berries. Then that’s enough for today.

O-mer apparently follows his thought, because he nods at the basket, looks tired. “You should eat fast and go to sleep. We have to move as soon as it’s light.”

Rex wishes he had more  _ answers _ , but the younglings don’t look like they want to talk, so he nods, scoops up a handful of red and purple berries, and eats them in a few bites.

_ Gods _ he wants his blasters, his vibroblade.

Still, he finishes his food and immediately lays down close enough to the fire to stay warm, wishes one of his  _ vode _ was here to share body warmth (and he thinks of Ahsoka, but no). Tomorrow they can make plans to get out of here, maybe get the younglings with them. For now he needs sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi have some angst

_ Where is your Master? _

_ He  _ **_will_ ** _ come for me! _

_ And if he… does not? _

_ No one’s coming for you. They never do. They can’t. _

_ (Darkness drifts over her, cold and endless as the dead space behind the stars, as the emptiness behind the swirling blue of hyperspace, and she is gone, gone, gone, she is lost, she is so very cold and small and alone.) _

_ You have been left to die. _

_ He will come for me! _

_ What makes you so sure? _

_ (She is scattered pieces of herself, the very essence of  _ **_her_ ** _ being sucked away, away, away, until there is nothing left but empty hollowness and a broken hunger and a hatred for everything that made her this way, for the one who could have saved her and didn’t, for the one who could have loved her and walked away.) _

_ Chains? Chains are the easy part… it’s what goes on up here that’s hard. _

_ Don’t you see, child? You are alone now. _

_ (Alone.) _

_ (She’s alone.) _

**_Don’t you remember what happens when you let go?_ **

…

Ahsoka snaps awake all at once, with a jerk, pushes herself upright and pants, swallows a whimper and wraps her arms around her knees.  _ Kriff. _

For a moment she can still  _ feel him, _ whispering in her montral, laughing, laughing, laughing, cupping her cheek and then humming,  **_your usefulness has come to an end,_ ** and all she feels is  _ pride _ because for a shining moment she was  _ useful. _

But  _ no, _ he’s--no, that’s wrong, she’s… Ahsoka shakes her head, hard, presses her forehead to her knees and struggles to breathe. She’s not… she’s…  _ you’re not a burden, _ and yet,  _ you have been left to die, _ and she can’t… she shakes her head again, swallows another noise.

Everything’s all tangled up and she doesn’t know which one is  _ real, _ maybe both, maybe neither, both are laughing and cold, and she shivers and squeezes her eyes shut and tries just to  _ breathe. _

~~~

Rex only sleeps in starts and stops, because although these children seem to have survived two years without setting up watches, he feels like there  _ should _ be, like if he sleeps too long someone will come and it will be his fault when they’re all slaughtered like mynocks.

So he keeps waking up, going to the wide entrance of the hollow in the tree, and peering out at the dark forest, the massive trees. Once he sees another sentient, scrambling desperate through the branches, but he does not try to get their attention. He just turns back and goes inside and goes back to sleep.

The fourth (or is it fifth?) time he wakes up, he goes and does his check, lays back down with his back to the fire, and tucks his right arm under his head, finds some kind of comfort against the twisted wood under his shoulder. But he doesn’t go back to sleep because  _ someone _ (it’s Ahsoka, he recognizes, he knows) is breathing fast and loud and harsh, suddenly, and he hears leather scrape against wood and knows she is awake.

And he’s worried. He should sit up and go to her and help, see what’s wrong, because once again everything’s uncertain and she always _needs_ _him_ , but… but he can’t. Can’t do this, can’t play this game again, where he gets close, makes promises, holds her, and then just goes. He can’t keep going back and forth all the time, can’t do that to _her_ , because either she needs him and he needs her and he stays _(he needs her, he does, she means safety)_ , or he sticks to what he _knows_ he has to do, to _real_ safety, where he won’t hurt her when nothing changes. And he has _nothing_. He presses his head tighter against his arm for the pressure of it, and so he could maybe block out the sounds of her heavy breathing, but it doesn’t work, and he feels small and miserable and cold, even with the fire at his back.

It’s not until a small whimper escapes her that he gives up, tells himself  _ be careful _ , and shoves himself up to sit cross-legged facing her, meets her eyes as she flinches (jerks her head off her arms where she’s wrapped them around her knees) and shrugs a little. “What happened, Ahsoka?” He does not move closer, just stays sitting with the fire partly between them, keeps his voice down so he doesn’t wake the younglings.

It is still dark outside and the fire, mostly just low, shivering flames over red embers, only creates a small space of warmth and comfort - everything else is unfamiliar, unsafe, and Rex is just a very small, frail creature in all of it without his armor and weapons and supplies. All he has is himself and what he knows, which is precious little protection, precious little safety.

But also… also there’s Ahsoka. Who is both things.

Protection and safety and not-his.

~~~

Ahsoka opens her mouth, starts to answer (though she’s not really sure how she’d explain--how do you tell someone you’re still having nightmares, over three months later, about--about what should be nothing), and then--she just stops, swallows, shakes her head.

_ Don’t you see, child? You are alone now. _

He doesn’t want her  _ (he hates her), _ he doesn’t--he doesn’t want to… no. She can’t do it. So she shakes her head and looks away  _ (don’t you remember what happens when you let go?) _ and says, equally quiet, “It’s nothing.”

Pushes herself to her feet and says, “Go back to sleep, I’ll keep watch,” and then whether he says anything or not she’s not sure, because she’s crossed the space of the hollow in a blink (and it’s really much colder outside the small circle of warmth cast by the fire) and then she’s leaping out to sit on the branch.

It’s colder out here, windier, but the air is pure and she takes a long breath, tilts her face up to the moonlight, lets the tears come. Silently, because she doesn’t want to wake anyone, or for Rex to know (though she thinks he might already, but that doesn’t matter, he doesn’t want her--or he does, but not enough to… to stay).

_ Don’t you see, child? You are alone now. _

She shudders, swallows hard, closes her eyes and breathes in, out, in, out. She can do this, it’s fine, she’ll be fine. (She shouldn’t still be dreaming about him.)

She doesn’t need Rex, anyway.

(It’s cold, and she’s alone, and she’s never wanted him more.)

~~~

“It’s nothing,” she tells him.

It’s a lie.

And it’s a lie he should just let her have, maybe, because she looks closed off to him, and he needs to sleep, anyway, so he watches her walk out into the moonlight (and he wants to stop her, because outside is  _ not safe _ , not sheltered) and sit down, leaning over her knees, perched on the branch, the cool light falling dappled over the curve of her spine. Rex sighs, something sticking sharp in his throat, and lies back down, draws his knees closer to his stomach, warmer, tucks one arm under his head and the other around his stomach and tries to go to sleep.

Except there’s wind on his back, cold, and the contours of the wood dig into his ribs, and he misses his  _ vode _ and his armor and… and  _ her _ , her too. And although he should be able to ignore all those things, because this is a campaign and he is a soldier and he has done this before, it just… he  _ hurts _ and he’s worried about her.

So he tries, for a few more minutes, to just  _ sleep _ , but he can’t. So he sighs, pushes himself to his feet and pads out into the dark, onto the branch (kriff trees), and slowly, carefully, sits down beside her, pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his arms on them, stares out over the trees at the sky (and not down, because if he looks down he’ll need to go back to the fire, because  _ kriff heights _ ).

At least this way she’s- he’s closer. She will talk if she wants to, he knows her. But he’s not going to push her - he thinks something’s wrong that he doesn’t understand. Maybe it’s just his own fault, or the planet.

~~~

Ahsoka doesn’t say anything, for a while. Just stays silent among the cold and the wind, and then she sighs explosively and says, quietly, “I still dream about him. The Son.”

She shouldn’t. It’s been long enough now.

“He’s gone,” Rex says, equally soft. “Eventually the dreams will go away too.”

She doesn’t look at him. Pulls her knees tighter to her chest, shivers a little as a strong gust of wind knifes through her thin dress. They should already be gone. She shouldn’t still be  _ struggling _ with this, months after. It’s a weakness.

One Ahsoka  _ knows _ she can’t afford to have.

Rex is just…  _ sitting, _ quiet and  _ present, _ and it’s almost enough. Except she’s cold and tired and lonely, and she  _ misses him, _ and the Son’s voice is still Dark and ice in her ear, and she swallows, blinks back a wave of fresh tears. And like she’s taken to doing, whenever she feels this way, whenever she misses the man sitting right next to her, she reaches for Anakin’s mind, for the warmth and comfort of their training bond, for a feeling like a hug (she’d gone to him, after--after Shrike, had gone to her Master and sobbed into his chest and told him the whole story and let him hold her close and soothe her until she could breathe), but--there’s nothing, there’s just that feeling of  _ faint, _ of thin, of  _ reaching, _ and a vague shadowy sense of  _ fear _ and  _ exhaustion, _ and then there’s  _ pain _ because  _ too much, _ she’s reaching too much, too hard, too far. And so she pulls back with a silent curse, because Anakin is--not here, and she wants--he’s not here. She’s…

_ (Don’t you see, child? You are alone now.) _

Suddenly, she finds that she would almost rather Rex not be here at all, than for him to be  _ close _ but so  _ untouchable,  _ the space of a few centimeters stretched as far as all the lightyears between here and Coruscant. He sits so close (if she just reached out, he’d be there) and yet he pulls away if she tries to  _ touch; _ he pulls her to him and promises she’s safe and gives her nicknames but he won’t meet her eyes. It gives her a sort of emotional  _ whiplash, _ trying to keep up with the back-and-forth, and yet--and yet it feels like a lightsaber to the heart every time he pulls away, leaves her scrabbling to  _ breathe _ from the pain.

(And for a moment, for just a moment, Ahsoka Tano knows  _ hate.) _

But that is not her, has never been her, and so she sighs, hugs her bare arms as another shiver runs through her--thanks, wind--and says, as lightly as she can when she can still taste Mortis on her tongue, “You should get some sleep. I’ll be fine, I’ve got the Force.”

~~~

When Ahsoka shivers, Rex almost thinks it’s just a play of the moonlight and the leaves across her skin, except she wraps her arms tighter around herself and looks down. And if  _ he  _ feels a chill up his spine, prickling over his arms, then she  _ certainly _ must.

“You need sleep too,” he says, carefully. “And it’s… it’s cold.” He hesitates, then says, flatly, carefully neutral, so she knows she can say no, so she knows this is not him trying to- he doesn’t know, “When the battalion is someplace cold, we sleep together.” His voice shakes too much on  _ together _ , and he grits his teeth. “For the body heat. And I don’t know, but the last time I checked, the Force didn’t make a very good blanket.”

At least, it didn’t on Mortis.

She picks at the hem of her battle dress, and he thinks her jaw is very tight. “Are you sure?” she asks, almost bitter, and he wants to say  _ never mind _ and forget it, but he nods.

“Yeah.” He gets to his feet (nope too high up he needs to go inside), grips his forearm again, carefully eases back along the branch and inside, lays down with his back to the fire (so that if she lays down with him she’ll be closer to the warmth).

And for a long few minutes, he thinks she’s not coming back in, and he knows this was just supposed to be for warmth, warmth he  _ almost _ doesn’t need, but he can’t help but curl up a little, close his eyes, tighten his fingers so much around his wrist that it  _ burns _ .

Then he hears the too-familiar pat of her boots on the ground, so very light, and then there’s a  _ presence _ at his back, and he feels her lie down, the length of her spine pressing against his, and he lets out a soft, nearly-relieved breath. It’s too much, but it’s better than there just being  _ nothing _ .

He wants his  _ vode _ , wants to know they’re alright, his  _ aliit _ . But at least he knows Ahsoka is safe, for now, can feel her solid and breathing against him. Maybe that will mean no nightmares, tonight.

~~~

Kalifa snaps awake with the sun, still tired (always tired), but  _ focusing. _ She has two people  _ counting _ on her for survival--she can’t afford things like  _ tired, _ like  _ sick _ or  _ cold _ (the year she’d been alone she’d been cold too much, had spent her time curled up by the fire and dreaming of the Jedi coming, finding her--until one day she woke up and realized that’s what it all was--a dream. nobody was coming for her). Today, though, for some reason, she almost feels like it’s  _ okay _ if she’s a bit slower, a bit less  _ focused, _ though she’s not sure why--

She pushes herself up to a sitting position, shifts cross-legged, like she has every morning, without fail: she may have been left behind, but she is a  _ Jedi, _ and she will not forget that. So every day she makes sure she meditates, and she tries to get the boys to do it too (they’re not so good at meditation, especially O-mer, and she’s not a very good teacher, doesn’t know  _ enough _ to help). It’s as she settling into a comfortable position that her eyes catch on the splash of sunset orange on the floor, and she remembers: the prisoner drop, the Padawan  _ (Anakin Skywalker’s _ padawan) and the… clone soldier? Kalifa hadn’t seen many clones before they took her--the war had only just begun. But the--but Ahsoka had called him  _ Captain, _ which she thinks must mean he is a good solder--she wonders how he got taken, then. Why would the Trandoshans take a clone?

She shakes her head to clear it, instead frowning for a moment, silent, just  _ observing _ the scene in front of her. The… Rex, she thinks, is curled up almost completely around Ahsoka, an arm holding the padawan tight to him, and it’s almost…  _ cute. _ (It’s been a long time since Kalifa used that word.) Sometimes she and Jinx and O-mer will curl up like that, when it’s especially cold out, but there’s something  _ different _ about it when it’s Ahsoka and, and Rex (she still does  _ not _ like or trust him, he is not one of them, he does not  _ belong _ in her treehouse). 

She’s not sure  _ how _ or  _ why, _ but it  _ is. _

Ahsoka’s eyes open a moment later, and she looks over herself, the arm draped across her chest, the face tucked against her montrals, and she smiles a little bit to herself before meeting Kalifa’s eyes. “Meditation?”

Kalifa shrugs, picks at the threadbare edges of her tabard. “I try.”

“It’s not an easy skill,” Ahsoka says, which is surprising to hear from  _ his _ Padawan. “Even if Master Obi-Wan can apparently meditate in the middle of a battle, he’s not… a lot of us aren’t as good at it. It took me a long time, Anakin too.”

Well, that’s actually almost  _ reassuring. _ “Knight Skywalker isn’t good at it?”

Ahsoka  _ laughs, _ which wakes Rex and Jinx up (O-mer sleeps on, though, like usual), sighs and untangles herself from her clone trooper and sits up, though she almost absently (it seems) leaves a hand on Rex’s arm. “Anakin is  _ terrible _ at meditating,” and then she looks down, shrugs one shoulder, looks up again. “He taught me a way with lightsabers, but…”

“But you must be better at it than  _ we _ are,” Jinx blurts out, also sitting up. “You’re  _ his padawan.” _

She snorts. “I mean, I guess?”

“Can you help us, just a little?” Kalifa asks, leaning forward earnestly. “We may have been forgotten, but we are still  _ Jedi, _ Ahsoka.”

She nods, sighs, says, “I can try to help, but I’m not so sure--I’m not a very good teacher.”

Kalifa shrugs again. “You’re better than nothing, though.” 

That pulls a small smile out of Ahsoka, and she nods. “Alright, yeah, sure. Look, so… right, how much of the breathing exercises do you remember?”

~~~

Rex doesn’t want her to take her hand off his arm, and doesn’t want to move it, but then he waits too long and she settles cross-legged and closes her eyes and Rex is  _ pretty _ sure you’re not supposed to interrupt a Jedi when they’re meditating. His Jedi don’t meditate much, though, so he’s just guessing, at this point.

He hadn’t wanted her to get up, either, when he woke up, which he knows doesn’t  _ matter _ , and she’d already been moving and gone before he was aware enough to question why they were all tangled together as if they had meant to do that. It had been so nice, again, for just a moment, the smooth feel of her headtail against his forehead and his arms all wrapped around her so he knew she was safe- but maybe it was better that she got up.

At least then he didn’t have to be the one to pull away again.

It is kriffing distracting, he decides, having her hand on his arm. She’s smoothing her thumb back and forth on his upper arm, light and small, and he doesn’t know if she even  _ means _ to be doing it - that’s the thing, so often she just  _ touches _ , and Rex hates to draw attention to it, to stop her, because it’s like some of his  _ vode _ once they get comfortable in their battalion. Like she simply wants the contact.

But she’s meditating, so he leaves it be, lies still and quiet and closes his eyes and tries to just- he doesn’t know, just be still.

The moment her thumb stops its movement on his arm, though, and the steady rhythm of her breathing eases a little more normal, he stretches, pushing himself up to sit and rub his face as though he’s been asleep this whole time. Not that he was, or is  _ pretending _ to have been, he just- Who is he even kidding.

Ahsoka tugs her knees up to her chest and lists (almost accidentally) against his side, shoulder pressing into his ribs. “How did that go?” she asks the girl, Kalifa, who is shifting to sit with her legs sprawled out in front of her. “Did that help?”

“Yeah,” Kalifa says. “Thanks, Ahsoka.”

“Better than how  _ she _ taught us to do it,” Jinx grumbles, crossing his arms. Rex thinks he sees an almost-smile from the boy, though, before he looks down at his knees.

“It’s not my fault you’re not good at it,” Kalifa says, standing up smoothly and going over to their still-sleeping friend, O-mer. She nudges him with her foot in the shoulder, until he rolls over and snaps upright, his hands flying up to his eyes to rub at them, hard.

Just children.

“We have to be on the move soon.” She rubs her own eyes, then crosses her arms.

“Why?” Rex asks. It makes more sense to him to stay here, where it’s sheltered, but obviously there’s a reason.

“They’ll track our scent here, if we stay,” Kalifa tells him.

So the hunters can follow them by smell - “How else do they track you?” Rex pushes himself to his feet, rolls his shoulders against sore muscles.

“Just that. Smell. Sight. Tracks. It’s sport,” she says harshly. “It would be no fun if they used scanners.”

That’s better than Rex had feared. Still not good, but better than having to evade an enemy that scans for life signs or infrared signatures.

~~~

No scanners is good news. Scanners are  _ hard _ to fool. Not impossible, but with the tech they’ve got? Might as well be. On the other hand, scent and sight and sound can be deceived, and tracks erased, if--if you do it right. If you know what to do. The Force is helpful, for that. 

Still. They have to forage and hunt and find water, and explore, and maybe try and find a base, because there has to be  _ some _ kind of launching point for the hunting parties, and they have to  _ find that _ if they’re going to get out of here. “Can we steal a ship? Like the ones they bring the prisoners in on?” Ahsoka asks, tilting her head to one side, pushing herself to her feet as well.

Kalifa shrugs. “I don’t know. There won’t be another drop for a couple days, though. Today we need to forage and maybe get more water,” and she hesitates before holding out one of the gourds. “You two should drink. Don’t ration it, water is important and you didn’t have any last night.”

Ahsoka takes the gourd gratefully, takes a long drink--she hadn’t realized how  _ thirsty _ she was until drinking, which is actually  _ worrisome. _ She swallows, takes a breath and another small drink, licks her lips and passes it over to Rex. “Here.”

~~~

Rex’s training says that if you don’t know where you’re going to get more water, you save what you have until you  _ have _ to drink it. But Kalifa seems confident enough in the possibility of more that she’s saying they don’t have to ration it, so Rex takes the gourd from Ahsoka and take several long, wonderful swallows of water. It helps a headache he hadn’t really known he had, and then he passes the gourd back to Kalifa with a small nod. He notices that she’s careful not to touch his fingers, when she takes it from him.

He doesn’t blame her.

Rex crosses his arms so he doesn’t reach for weapons that he doesn’t have. “Do you see much of them? The hunting parties?” He doesn’t want to go out, expose themselves searching for food, but if they have to - how vigilant does he have to be?

It really doesn’t matter if he doesn’t  _ have _ to be on his guard the whole time, though, because he will be regardless.

“It depends,” O-mer tells him, after a gulp of water. “Sometimes they’re everywhere. Sometimes it’s a long time.”

Rex doesn’t like that answer.

He thinks now that the Trandoshans have caught a Jedi Padawan, they will want to hunt her.

Or maybe they will wait, tire her out.

He doesn’t  _ know _ , and he doesn’t like that.

Kalifa climbs lightly out of the hollow, takes a few steps along the branch. “We need to go,” she says, and Rex knows he’d be better off leaving the rest of his questions for later.

So they all file out after her, Rex pleased to find he’s not as sore as he should be, especially since he has to climb down out of a massive tree and keep up with four Jedi. It helps, at least, that as they climb down the branches get larger, stronger, and there’s more break from the wind, and it’s daylight and feels almost (almost) safe.

Even though it’s not.

All the Jedi, Kalifa in particular, move with a soft, creeping ease that reminds him of hunting loth-cats, silent even when they swing fast down between branches. Rex does his best to be just as quiet, although he’s not so balanced, so it’s harder to manage.

Still, the good thing about moving  _ downward _ is that it’s easy to keep up. Lot of falling, which he’s way better at than he wishes he was.

When they reach the ground, Rex has an absurd desire to pat the earth with one hand, because  _ finally _ it’s solid and if he falls, it’s just from his own height. He does not do that, however; he is not a child. He just checks on Ahsoka, who is, of course, fine, and then follows Kalifa (who is a silent leader, and clearly has a plan in mind) in winding through the trees, through scattered fallen boulders and sometimes up into lower branches to get past larger obstacles.

It’s not until they reach a fast-running, cold stream that Kalifa tells them, “We can try here,” and she and O-mer and Jinx scatter partly away from each other to look for, presumably, food.

Rex doesn’t know anything about foraging, at least, not except for on the most common planets, so he just sticks by Ahsoka and they look around on their own. Rex recognizes a kind of berry that usually grows on Naboo, Ahsoka something leafy and weird-looking that she says General Kenobi says is decent for nutrients, in emergencies.

General Kenobi better be right.

They reconvene by the stream with the others, and Kalifa looks over all of their food, drops it in a basket, and says, “Refill the gourds and we keep going.”

She leads the way into the stream, and they follow the flow of it, stopping occasionally when one of the younglings sees something they think they could eat, and then they splash out of the water, either gather some of the food or leave with nothing.

It’s time-consuming, but it’s successful, and Rex scoops up handfuls of water as they go, stays wonderfully hydrated and cool that way.

Ahsoka doesn’t seem to be doing the same, so he ends up commandeering a gourd from O-mer, refills it and passes it wordlessly over to her every now and then.

Although Rex has never  _ gone _ on a hike just for the pleasure of it, now he understands why that’s something other sentients do. Except there probably isn’t normally the nervous chill running up and down their backs.

He can’t forget that there are  _ hunters _ out there, things that want to kill them, even if the younglings seem much less concerned than he is.

~~~

They spend most of the morning and into the afternoon scavenging, although Kalifa allows a brief break around noon to clamber up in a tree and eat from their basket. Not a lot, just enough. She doesn’t say anything about how much food Ahsoka takes, just watches, but Ahsoka rations herself anyway. Takes no more than a few berries (because they’re surprisingly  _ good) _ and some of those leafy things Master Obi-Wan told her about, nibbles slowly on them, because she knows if she eats slower she’ll feel more filled. “Shouldn’t they be hunting me by now?” she asks, quietly, leaning casually back against Rex, who’s taken the position nearest to the trunk. Probably because it’s safer.

Kalifa shakes her head, but it’s Jinx who answers, bitter and cold as last night’s wind. “They give you a day, maybe two,” he says. “Get you tired out, maybe think you’re safe. It’s never the first hunt that’s the problem, though.”

Ahsoka tilts her head to one side, curious. “What do you mean?”

“There’ve been padawans here before,” Kalifa says, quietly. “Some of them even thought they could escape. But they always go mad.”

“What happens?”

O-mer looks up from his fingers, which he’s got all twisted together, says, tired, “They have these things, we don’t know what they are. It’s all part of the game. They make--sounds, like screams. You can’t chase them, when they start. If someone screams. You don’t know if it’s--real or not.”

She shudders, against her will. “Don’t you ever--try to help?”

Kalifa stands, abruptly, flips her hair out of her face and stares down, harsh and cold and  _ exhausted. _ “Only if you want to die. This is  _ survival, _ Ahsoka. If you try to help people, you’ll only get yourself killed.” And she jumps to the ground, O-mer close behind.

It’s Jinx who stands, turns back and says, “If you don’t die, you’ll go insane,” and then follows.

And Ahsoka is left to look back at Rex, confused and worried and more than a little unsure, suddenly. “We  _ have _ to find a way out of here,” she says, soft, after a moment.

He nods. “Yeah. Soon.” And his voice is rough, a little, but certain, and she closes her eyes for a moment before standing and hopping off the branch. 

The only way out is  _ through, _ now. They can’t go back.

~~~

The prospect of  _ not helping _ is one that’s always been daunting, unfair, to Rex - doing nothing when he would be able to make things  _ better _ .

It is worse, he thinks, for Ahsoka. She is a Jedi, and beyond that, she is- she is herself. And she can’t just  _ do nothing _ , he knows her.

So they need to get off this ball of rock.

They walk for a while longer, into the afternoon, and they don’t see any other sentients, and few other lifeforms. Just some birds and a scaled lemur in the distance (too far to catch and kill).

And then there aren’t even birds, and Rex’s instincts thrill nervous, and Ahsoka tilts her head, walks quieter still through the water.

The younglings slow down, then Kalifa suddenly leaps up into a low tree branch in a smooth movement, bounds a few branches higher without pausing. Her friends do too, and Rex hurries to make his own way up (onto a stone in the stream, grab the branch and heft himself up, clumsy) after them, a little frustrated by the fact that Ahsoka waits for him instead of just following the younglings.

They’ve gotten high enough in the tree that by the time Rex reaches where they stopped, it’s hard to see through the leaves, vines, and branches to the ground. Kalifa puts her fingers to her lips, the universal sign for  _ silence _ , and Rex settles low on the branch, peers through the leaves.

If he can see the things hunting them, if he knows what they’re up against, it will help him know what to do, and maybe there will be some clue of how they operate, and  _ where _ .

At first there is no  _ real _ indication of anything being close except for his Jedi  _ listening _ and the tug in his own gut and the dead  _ silence _ of the forest.

And then it’s  _ not _ silent anymore, there’s crackling underbrush and shrilling, hissing cries and approaching engines and a woman, long-limbed and scrawny, Near-Human, comes crashing through the bushes beneath them, stumbles desperate over stones, and Rex presses lower against the branch under his feet, watches, analyzes.

They could pull her up, if they’re fast, if the hunters are far enough behind.

~~~

“We’ve gotta help her,” Ahsoka says softly, watching as the woman runs towards them. “If we grab her, we could pull her up--”

“No,” Kalifa says, low. “She’s not one of us.”

_ Kriff _ that. “That doesn’t  _ matter,” _ Ahsoka snaps back, slipping to one side of the branch and clinging to it, poking her head through the cover even though Jinx hisses at her. There’s a speeder engine’s distinctive whining coming from both directions, and she tilts her head, listening. “Look, if we go now we could--”

“Get  _ back!” _ Kalifa jerks a hand, and Ahsoka feels a  _ pull _ on the collar of her dress, tugging her head out of the greenery and leaves. Which is  _ patently  _ unfair.

“The  _ kriff, _ Kalifa,” she says, sharp, “let me  _ go, _ I can get her out!”

Kalifa shakes her head, doesn’t release her clawed fingers, and Ahsoka swears again and tries to duck down, but the Force holds her back for long enough that when the youngling’s control fails and Ahsoka finally manages to get  _ down _ again the speeders are almost  _ there, _ and there’s no  _ time _ but she tries anyway, tries to get down there, she’s a  _ Jedi, _ she can  _ do it-- _

But then there’s a pair of arms wrapping around her, tugging her  _ back, _ hard, Rex, pulling her against his chest even though she fights him. “Easy,” he says, quiet in her montrals, “there’s no time, Ahsoka, we can’t  _ do anything.” _

“You don’t  _ know that,” _ she says back, hoarse and pained, and then there’s sounds of reptilian laughter and a short, sharp scream and Ahsoka sags back into the meager comfort Rex is, leans the back of her head against his shoulder and closes her eyes and can’t  _ breathe. _

She  _ hates this, _ sitting here frozen, having to  _ listen _ to the terrified, agonized sounds drifting up from below. She doesn’t--Anakin didn’t teach her to just sit back and  _ watch _ as others get hurt, and it’s not-- “It’s not the  _ Jedi way,” _ she whispers, faint, but Rex does not relax his arms and she sighs and leans more into him, lets him hold her back.

She  _ hates herself, _ right now.

~~~

Rex makes himself steel and armor so he doesn’t  _ think _ and almost doesn’t  _ hear _ , focuses on keeping Ahsoka snug against him where she can’t get away from him and get killed (like the crying woman in the clearing). She’s not struggling, anymore, and he wonders if she’ll hate him for holding her back, later. But he’s not letting her die for (screaming and whimpering and abandoned) a lost cause.

It should not feel like such a long time before the sounds dissolve into boisterous laughter, cheering, and Rex tightens one arm around Ahsoka, shifts so he can look down into the clearing at the hunters.

They’re large, larger than humans, reptilian, with sharp teeth and clawed hands and  _ blasters _ , flicking out tongues to taste the air like snakes. Rex thinks this is too dangerous, suddenly, the five of them crouched so close to those creatures, with their newest kill on the ground between them.

It’s the eyes and the laughter, Rex thinks, that tell him the most. That these things love this, find it  _ easy _ , but have no fear of losing this dangerous game they’ve created for themselves.

So he raises a hand, flicks his fingers in a GAR signal for “we need to move” before he remembers they won’t know what it means - but Kalifa seems to understand anyway, nods, springs silent and sure-footed up higher into the tree.

Rex eases one arm, then the other, away from Ahsoka, meets her eyes as she turns to face him. He repeats the hand signal, and she nods once (looks disappointed and hollow and he thinks the sounds will have been worse for her and her sensitive montrals and kindness), and he waits to move until she’s jumped just as silent after Kalifa.

O-mer and Jinx go too, and Rex has to go slower, more careful, to be as silent as them, and he thinks the younglings would gladly leave him behind, still.

However, what little distance stretches between them, he makes sure not to let it get farther, and once they’re  _ away _ from the hunt, makes himself ignore the height and push himself fast enough that he catches up to them, falls in right behind Ahsoka.

He thinks Jinx  _ almost _ looks disappointed.

They’re just children.

It wasn’t a very sunny day today to begin with, soft grey clouds blocking out most of the sky, but as they climb higher up to where the blankness washes out the whole horizon, Rex can see heaviness and darkness bleeding into the clouds from the east, the wind twisting cold and sweet. He knows those signs, from Kamino, although storms on Kamino build faster, roll in more violent and are gone sooner.

At least it feels a little familiar, almost like home.

Still, he’s glad when he sees their sheltered hollow again (although that means jumping again, little gods take it), because the first drops of rain are welcome but soon this will be a downpour, if the clouds are any indication, and he wants to be where it’s safe.

(Even if that means he will hear the screams. It will not be the first time he has had to bury something like that.)

~~~

At first, when they get inside the hollow in the tree, Ahsoka is glad to be sheltered; the rain is coming down in fat, bulging drops, and, pitter-pattering against the leaves and the wood. The air is cool and heavy with moisture, is petrichor wafting through the entrance to their little hollow, and the fire is warm and bright and merry, crackling away, and they have food and water and are snug. A bit chilly, but snug.

And then the thunder starts, low and rolling, and at first it’s not bad at all, just a grumble. But then the storm grows in intensity and lightning starts flashing, crackling, electric and raw and leaving golden-glowing afterimages streaking across the backs of her eyelids, and the thunder gets  _ loud, _ booming, stabbing through her montrals with every growl. She can’t help flinching, clapping her hands over her montrals, as though that would  _ help _ muffle the noise, biting her lower lip to stifle a whimper, because it  _ hurts. _

The younglings are sleeping, mostly, she thinks, except Kalifa; the young Human girl grimaces a bit (doesn’t seem to be a fan of storms), and then there’s a particularly long, violent rumble of thunder and she can’t quite swallow a small pained noise, squeezing her eyes shut and tightening her fingers.

Kriff.

Everything is silence, except the softness of the rain (which grows in ferocity until it’s hammering down like shrapnel, like debris, durasteel knives against their tree), and the roaring thunder, and the ripping jagged flashes of lightning arcing across the sky, and it makes it all  _ worse, _ the fact that the only thing to focus on is the sky’s fury booming bass and heavy overhead, and she clenches her jaw harder, grits her teeth, tries to ignore the way the pain  _ spears _ through her head.

~~~

Rex  _ loves _ storms that aren’t the ones on Kamino, loves the ones that roll and crash like a knocked-over rack of blasters in the armory, loves the way the rain rushes in a rhythm hard and soft and hard again, loves the jagged lightning that illuminates the hollow and the fire and Ahsoka in stark, precise white.

In that light, though, he thinks Ahsoka looks  _ small _ , and he pulls his eyes away from the twisting greys of the clouds to focus on her. She’s hunched over her knees (no surprise given what’s just happened), and her hands are curled around her montrals, almost like she’s thinking hard except she’s  _ tense _ . He stands, as thunder rolls slow and grumbly and all around them, and Ahsoka cringes smaller, fingers shifting over her montrals.

Right. Togrutan hearing.

Rex hums to himself and pads over to sit down next to her, cross-legged. They’re closer to the entrance to the hollow in the tree now, and he watches the tops of the trees shift and sway in waves, like the ocean. “Too loud?”

Ahsoka winces, like she didn’t expect him to speak, and nods.

The lightning flicks sharp and brilliant out of the clouds, and for just a split second the light turns Ahsoka’s markings silver, alive, sparkling, and then it’s dark again.

“Can I help?” he asks softly. A gust of wind blows misted raindrops at him, and he revels in the feel of it, speckling light against his skin. It’s been a long time since Rex has just felt  _ weather _ . She nods again, and he glances around them at the shelter, out at the storm. “How?”

She looks a little sheepish, but she says, “Help muffle it, maybe?” Shrugs. “Give me something else to think about?”

Rex sighs, thinks a second, and then reaches over and pulls her against his chest, curving one hand over her montral next to her own hand. It probably doesn’t help much (and the thunder shrieks and Ahsoka jolts a little), so he huffs a little, digs for “something else,” whatever that may be.

There is another brilliant-blinding flash of lighting, illuminating the white lines that shiver down her forehead again, and the light catches crystal in her eyes for a moment, turning them a wild silver-blue, and Rex thinks  _ she _ is  _ aden’tra _ , the anger of the sky, lightning before thunder. And he tightens his hold on her as the next clash of thunder comes, the feet of soldiers following their Jedi.

She likes it when his men speak Mando’a. It fascinates her. If he just teaches her a few words, he knows she won’t be thinking so much about the storm. So he shifts so that her head is more against his shoulder than his chest, says, “We call that  _ oran _ .”

Ahsoka twists a little to look at him, still leaving her hands tight over her montrals. “What?” She looks interested, which is good.

“Thunder. In Mando’a, it’s  _ oran _ .” Rex didn’t expect it to feel so vulnerable, volunteering that information, talking about  _ his _ language that he’s spoken since he was just a cadet.

“It’s pretty,” says Ahsoka, thoughtfully. Then, a little shyly, “It sounds like a storm, when you say it.”

Rex smiles a little, shrugs. “For that, I think you want  _ buurena _ . That’s storm.” He thinks the Basic word for storm isn’t as good. It doesn’t  _ mean _ as much, it’s too general. There’s another flash of lightning, skittering electric-silver over Ahsoka’s skin, and he says, more quietly, “And  _ that _ is  _ aden’tra _ .”

In the space between the lightning and the next rumble of thunder, Ahsoka carefully imitates his pronunciation, “ _ Aden’tra _ ,” (it’s an attempt, anyway), looks up at him through her lashes, her eyes ocean-blue-grey, and says “It’s like your eyes, they’re like that.” Then, like she’s realizing what she said, she looks down fast.

And Rex presses her closer to his shoulder against the thunder that follows (he loves thunder, has always, even when storms on Kamino were much more  _ dangerous _ and the raging sky meant you  _ did not _ go outside), and when it’s quiet again, says, “Yours too.”

~~~

Ahsoka holds perfectly still in the almost-liquid silence that follows Rex’s statement, doesn’t quite dare look up, as though if she  _ moves, _ if she even so much as tilts her eyes up, she’ll shatter this moment.  _ Yours too. _

What does that  _ mean? _ How can he--she thought--she looks up at him again, at those crackling electric eyes, stormlight and sunshine and something warm and wistful, and he’s just--watching her. Still and silent and  _ soft, _ something like longing flickering across the sharp lines of his face. He holds her gaze for a brief second, then looks away, back out at the storm raging just beyond their hollow, leaving her feeling oddly  _ bereft, _ like a charge skittering over her skin is gone. The dim crimson-orange firelight flickers over his face, casting odd-shaped shadows in the hollows of his bones, a creature of dusk and dawn, and when the lightning flares again it scorches raw and white and vivid across everything and for a moment it burns all the shadows away, all the misconceptions and half-truths and the unspoken words that cloud like a veil and she can  _ see, _ for a moment, can feel it in the tightness of his arm around her, the soft soothing back-and-forth of his thumb on her montral (she wonders if he even knows he’s doing it), the solid warmth of his shoulder and chest beneath her cheek. Can see all the unsaid whispers in his eyes (comets wreathed in flames), all the things he couldn’t say, all the emotions she’d carelessly believed him not to feel: they’re all  _ there, _ so close she could almost reach out and touch.

And Ahsoka thinks she  _ understands, _ as the lightning dances away, quicksilver and capricious as a child, the thunder chasing it slow and ponderous and roaring (and she has to tuck her head tighter against his shoulder, to try and muffle the sound--it helps some, the pain not as much as it could’ve been, but not gone); it’s not, has never been, that he  _ doesn’t want, _ it’s that--she thinks it’s that he thinks he  _ cannot want, _ that there is too much between them for anything to ever  _ be, _ and for a moment she just  _ breathes _ that realization in with the cool damp air and lets herself  _ exist. _ Just exist in this moment, let the past float away where it can’t interfere.

Sometimes, in the past, before the war, the Jedi were often called upon as  _ mediators, _ she knows, the balance in between, seeing both sides of an argument and determining the best way to solve it. She has never been particularly  _ skilled _ at that--she’s too fiery, too  _ much, _ too opinionated, never reserved or neutral enough to be what’s needed--but right now she doesn’t want detached, calm unbias. She lets another starkly silver lightning bolt flash over her, weathers the thunder, takes a careful breath.

She remembers the closeness after Lola Soyu and her heart  _ aches, _ and when she thinks of everything that happened after Shrike it just grows more painful; but she makes herself consider it, just for a moment, imagine waking up one morning and Fives saying  _ I’m sorry, Commander, they came in the middle of the night and took him and he’s gone,  _ no more Rex ever again, and  _ that _ is too much, that is more than she could--could bear, she thinks, him being gone (dead, worse than dead, because he’s still  _ out there _ somewhere, but never  _ her _ Rex ever again), and she thinks she understands, now, why he--why he left.

Which doesn’t mean she can’t savor the moments of, of closeness, rare as they are, but… she thinks she’d rather have just--she’d rather have something like  _ friendship _ with him (even though it will never really be enough) than for him to be  _ gone, _ not here. And that’s--that’s what he’s been trying to do. The realization hits like the lightning outside, sudden and sharp and shocking: his pulling away, reaching for distance, it’s not because he  _ wants to, _ it’s because he-- _ I don’t know if I can, I’m not--it’s against regs, I’m already breaking--I don’t know how to do that, _ he says, quiet and unsure, on Mortis, bathed in flickering firelight, as she asks him to call her by her name.

She swallows (realizes she’s still staring, unfocused, at his profile), looks down again, closes her eyes and tucks her head a bit more against him. For him, she can--she give it up, she can let him  _ go, _ because it’s better to let him go than to have him ripped away.

~~~

The sky has a pattern to it, Rex thinks, like the paint on his armor or the markings on Ahsoka’s face. It doesn’t quite make sense, but it’s regular, the way the clouds twist dark and pale, in and out of each other, before the lightning turns them silver and flat. The rain is driving in sheets, washing into their hollow occasionally, and he sighs. “I used to hate storms,” he says. “When I was a cadet. If it storms on Kamino, you can’t go outside - it wasn’t even part of our training. Too much risk of actually losing a cadet.” The thunder comes, strong and crackling, sounds like fire, like the deepest part of the ocean, almost has a voice. And he knows it hurts her, but he still breathes it in, enjoys the sound until it grumbles into silence. “Then I went on a campaign to Saleucami, and there was a thunderstorm one night, and I thought it would be like back on Kamino, but it wasn’t. It was all quieter, quieter than this, and I could walk outside in the rain and it didn’t feel like it was gonna drive through my armor. So this- this is my favorite kind of night.” Unless he has to fight. But he’s not going to think about  _ those _ battles now.

Ahsoka sighs a little. “I like the rain. And the lightning. It’s just… the thunder is loud.”

“ _ Pitat _ . That’s rain,” Rex says, off-handedly, glances down at her. It’s right that she likes lightning, he thinks, the light that sears hard and fast with no warning, burns a brand on the inside of his eyelids and won’t go away, unpredictable and dancing and setting things on fire with a careless touch. “And like I said,  _ aden’tra _ . The rage of the sky.” Like her eyes.

Like his too, apparently.

_ Force _ , he wants her.

Her answer is not what he expects. “You know that I- love you, Rex,” and he swallows, looks back out at the storm, chest getting  _ tight _ . He doesn’t want to do this again, it hurt enough the first time.  _ Aden’tra _ . “And I think I understand now, why you had to- to leave, and I guess… I’d rather be friends with you than have nothing at all. So I guess… I’m sorry for being angry, because you’re just- you have to put your men first, and I understand that now.”

Rex glances over at her, his chest caving in, and sees she’s staring at her knees, picking at the threads of her leggings, her eyes in shadow so he can’t really read them. “You know I- want you too,” he says, low. “I’m sorry that I can’t- can’t stay, that we can’t do this. But- thank you for understanding, I- I don’t know what else to do.”

She keeps fidgeting with her leggings, a moment, then says, “What’s  _ ner’jetii? _ You said that, after- Sobek.”

Rex closes his eyes a second, holds her tight as thunder hums harsh and grating for a moment, comforting to him - not so much her. “My Jedi,” he says, lowly, aching, holds the words out like an apology.

“Oh,” she says.

Rex feels hollowed out, like clouds emptied of rain, like the smell of the world after a storm, and he sighs, leaves his eyes closed. The lightning still turns his world white.

~~~

_ My Jedi, _ he says, and Ahsoka closes her eyes, leans a bit into him. It’s something--she feels like it’s an admission, really,  _ my Jedi _ and  _ sweetheart _ and  _ you know that I--want you too, _ all adding up to words he won’t let himself say (maybe because it hurts him too much, maybe because it hurts her). She’s so  _ tired, _ suddenly, tired of all of this, tired of  _ wanting _ and never  _ having, _ but--she can do it. She can be strong, for him.

So she sighs, tries to keep most of the, well, the  _ love _ really, from her voice when she says, soft, “You’re still my Rex either way.”

There’s a pause, for another crack of thunder, and then he says, “I know,” so low, and falls quiet.

And  _ Force, _ she misses him, even though he’s  _ right here, _ but… she can’t… she  _ wants, _ wants to reach out and touch, but the only thing she allows herself to do is slip an arm around his waist, to make the position a bit more comfortable for both of them. She can’t--she has to respect his decision, his choice, needs to listen to what he says and  _ accept that, _ and it’s so  _ hard _ because he’s here and he’s close and she  _ wants, _ she wants, she wants.

But she can’t  _ have. _

She did, for a couple of sweet, sweet weeks, those few sunshine-bright days when everything was so--was perfect, really, even though nothing was  _ perfect, _ because she had him and he was  _ there _ and everything was okay. And she wants that time _ back,  _ but she forces herself to  _ not think _ like that, because she thinks she should be happy with that time she  _ had _ and just… accept it.

Kriff, she hates this, this special kind of torture, being so  _ close _ but unable to--she doesn’t know.

But she understands, and she is going to  _ try, _ and that is the important thing, she thinks.

~~~

Rex thought he understood what it felt like to  _ hurt _ , when Ahsoka called after him, said  _ “I love you _ ” and he’d had to just  _ leave _ , and in the weeks after when it had been bitter silence or tense professionalism and nothing else, after the closeness of  _ before _ . And it did hurt, all the time.

But this is worse, he thinks, deeper where he can’t reach it, may never be able to. And every time it thunders and Ahsoka presses closer to him, it drives something sharp and hot into his throat, makes it hard to breathe, because it’s  _ almost real _ , so close, all he’d have to do is take hold of it - but if he does that, he’ll lose  _ all of it _ , what little there is, her and his  _ vode _ . And he’d rather have this pain than nothing at all.

The sounds of rain and thunder are soothing, a rhythm of steadiness in his ears, even though there’s no real reason behind it. He clings to that white noise, warm and strong, until he realizes the thunder has dulled to just a distant growl, and he looks down at Ahsoka, all washed silver-grey in the moonlight that’s beginning to pierce through the stormclouds. She’s asleep, he realizes, breathing deep and slow, her arm around his waist just loose and soft.

The fire is dying down, but the air is not so cold tonight, just smells damp and sweet and warm, and Rex takes a moment to breathe, by himself, in the pale dark, feel mist on his face. Then he sighs, pulls away from Ahsoka a bit, holding her shoulders, and eases her down to lay with her back to the fire. He gets up, stretches, and goes to stand at the edge of their shelter for a moment, the rain splashing on his boots. There’s nothing out there tonight, just rain and trees and wind, so he goes back to lay down in front of Ahsoka, rests his head on his left arm, not quite close enough to touch. She shifts in her sleep, then reaches for him with one hand, searching almost, and Rex takes her hand in his, between them on the wooden floor, and closes his eyes, lets the hushing rain lull him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Mando'a translations:**
> 
> _aden'tra:_ literally, sky-wrath, or rage of the sky
> 
>  _oran:_ thunder
> 
>  _buurena:_ storm
> 
>  _pitat:_ rain
> 
>  _ner'jetii:_ my Jedi


	3. interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is merely a short interlude, ~4k words, that shows what's happening back on Coruscant while our babies are off being hunted. there will be a second interlude after a couple more chapters.

It’s been two days, almost three, since the disastrous campaign on Felucia.

Well, it wasn’t  _ technically _ a disaster, the Council is very pleased with how quickly they took the airbases, but to Anakin it was. Because maybe they got an airbase or two, a jump-off point for a campaign against the rest of the planet, but he  _ lost _ Ahsoka and Rex.

He  _ lost them, _ and now he can’t  _ find them. _

He’s spent the last two days poring over star-maps, trying to figure out  _ where _ they might’ve been taking--if only he’d gotten a glimpse of the  _ sleemos _ who took them, he’d be able to narrow his search. As it is, the only clue he’s got is that whatever took them did so  _ silently, _ because his men (Jesse, Tup, Dogma, Brii) didn’t hear a thing, and then that brief look of a freighter lifting off, long and low and bloated, and  _ unmarked. _

Not a single thing on it to  _ possibly _ give a clue who it is.

Anakin would put credits on slavers, if he was cold-hearted and callous enough to bet on the fates of his own  _ padawan _ and his  _ Captain, _ but that doesn’t exactly narrow anything down. Felucia is in the Outer Rim, it could’ve karking been  _ anyone: _ the Hutts, the Zygerrians, any one of those  _ filthy _ scum species out there that trade in sentient flesh.

He hasn’t slept since they got back to Coruscant, hasn’t stopped searching since the moment he realized that his Padawan and his Captain were  _ gone, _ hasn’t stopped cursing himself and his idiocy since he had to tell Jesse to give the order to bring the men back. 

Ahsoka…

Where could she  _ be? _

The only thing Anakin knows is that  _ hopefully _ Rex is still with her, is still watching her back, and he knows--he knows the two of them can overcome almost anything, but slavers? That’s a whole different game, and it’s not one Ahsoka knows  _ anything _ about. (She almost did, once, when she was young, but…) Rex might know a little more, just by virtue of his training, but they aren’t going to just be able to  _ escape. _ Slaves don’t just  _ walk away, _ and he has  _ no idea _ what awful things might be happening to them.

He’s  _ got _ to find them.

Anakin lifts his caf to his lips, takes a long gulp--he has no idea how many cups this makes, too many probably, Obi-Wan would scold--and fumbles for one of the stim shots he’d stolen--er, appropriated--from the medbay when Kix wasn’t paying attention.

(Kix would  _ not _ be pleased.)

He’s  _ tired, _ and he  _ can’t be, _ he doesn’t have that luxury right now; he’s  _ got _ to find them, soon, because if he doesn’t, if he fails  _ this _ too, then he’ll--

He doesn’t want to think about it.

So he gulps his scalding caf (Brii keeps coming by, with fresh cups, and also little snacks, which is kind of adorable--or would be, if Anakin wasn’t so worried) and stabs the new stim shot into his arm, breathes through the first jittery rush of adrenaline, and then hums and zooms in on the starmap again. Felucia, here. Zygerria isn’t very far away, he notes again, and then scowls. It’s the same damn things over and over again! He traces a finger down the two major hyperlanes that intersect right by Felucia, and swears, scrubs a hand over his face (ignores the way his hands are shaky--it’s the effect of the stims, of using multiple stim cocktails so close together) and leans heavy onto the edge of the holoprojector, shakes his head.

He needs help.

Florrum is nearby--it could’ve been Hondo, he admits, tiredly, even though he doesn’t think the pirate would kidnap Ahsoka without  _ saying something-- _ and--and so is Mandalore, he realizes. Maybe the Duchess would know something,  _ anything, _ that could help. He’ll have to have Obi-Wan ask her (she’ll probably actually  _ say _ something, to Obi-Wan). Favors. He has lots of favors he can call in.

He’ll use them all, if he has to, to find his Padawan, his Captain.

Kix comes in, at some point, an hour into a holocomm with karking Hondo Ohnaka, who is about the most  _ irritating _ idiot Anakin has ever had to converse with. Hondo keeps talking about how  _ insulted _ he is,  _ Skywalker, why would I steal your Padawan and your clone? I did not take them today, and have not in the recent past, in fact. I have been doing  _ **_many_ ** _ things, stealing and pillaging and drinking, but not kidnapping--at least, not kidnapping little Jedi. _

Which doesn’t  _ help. _

“Just karking  _ look for her,” _ Anakin finally snaps, ignoring Kix very pointedly--he’s pretty sure he knows exactly what the medic wants--and glaring fiercely at Hondo’s stupid laughing face.

_ “Only for her?” _

Anakin thinks he might punch something. “No, both of them, just--” and he grits his teeth, closes his eyes. “Look, if you find them I’ll pay you.”

_ “Will you pay me more than I could make selling them myself? A Jedi, especially a pretty little thing like yours, is worth a lot of spice.” _

“Sell her and I’ll make sure you never get another ounce of spice again,” Anakin growls, low, and Hondo actually pales a bit.

_ “I’ll keep that in mind, Skywalker,” _ the pirate says, and then abruptly static fuzzes and the connection cuts out--the problem with such long-range comms. Kark it.

“General,” Kix says, of-karking-course, “when’s the last time you slept?”

“I have a feeling you already know,” Anakin says, “and are trying to trick me into lying so you can act all superior.”

“Or you could just… tell the  _ truth, _ which is that you haven’t slept since before Felucia, and that you’ve been taking stims since,” the medic snaps, almost  _ angry. _ “Luckily Brii’s  _ worried _ about you, sir. It’s not  _ healthy.” _

“I don’t  _ care. _ Ahsoka and Rex are  _ missing, _ Kix, haven’t you figured that out by now? And the Council won’t  _ do anything!” _

“Sir,” Kix says, tiredly, “if you’re exhausted and half-delirious from sleep deprivation, you aren’t gonna be able to find them. Just--you need to sleep.”

“I just took another stim an hour ago,” Anakin says, equally tired, the angry energy draining away as fast as it’d come.

Kix swears. “I’m coming back in three hours, then,” he says sharply, “and if you won’t go sleep then I’ll  _ force _ you to.”

And the medic walks away, leaving Anakin alone with his starmaps and his guilt.

~~~

Cody is with his General when Kenobi gets the comm from Skywalker to _please contact the Duchess, maybe they've heard something there._ Kenobi gives Cody a tight smile. “Of course, Anakin.” Then he turns to Cody, shaking his head. “He hasn't slept this whole time,” he says.

Cody hasn't either. He'll have to soon or risk serious side effects, but he just hasn't been able to manage it. He thinks Kenobi hasn’t noticed yet, if only because his General is very concerned about General Skywalker. Kenobi sighs, tunes his wristcomm a second, and Cody sees his shoulders tighten.

His General has the Duchess’ comm frequency saved, Cody knows. Kenobi doesn’t bother learning many frequencies, not with how many diplomats and Senators he deals with. Cody knows Kenobi knows his, Skywalker’s, and the Duchess’.

Most people would not know to pay attention to that, but Cody does.

“Duchess,” Kenobi says, smoothly. “Satine, can you read me?”

Mandalore is close to Felucia. It’s not unlikely that they may have seen the ship that took Rex and Commander Tano - at the very least if they’re  _ looking _ , it’s something.

“ _ Master Kenobi, _ ” comes the answer, pristine and professional, but with a hint of surprise. “ _ To what do I owe this pleasure? _ ”

“To unfortunate circumstances, I’m afraid,” Kenobi says wryly, and Cody shifts from foot to foot. It’s only been a few days, but it’s been long enough that his  _ ori’vod _ could be  _ anywhere _ . “Satine, we were on Felucia about two days ago, and Anakin’s padawan, Ahsoka, and one of his men were taken. We are fairly sure it was not the Separatists, and we haven’t heard anything since. We don’t have any leads, except some of the troops saw an unmarked freighter taking off shortly after they lost track of the two of them. I don’t suppose you’ve seen anything?”

There’s a long pause, painfully long, long enough that Cody stiffens and sighs because he knows what the answer will be. “ _ I’m sorry, Obi-Wan. I have not. But I can help look. _ ”

Cody looks down, clenching his fists, and eyes the stripe of blue on his right bracer. There’s so little they can do, they don’t know enough and all they can do is call in favors.

And all  _ Cody _ can do is listen to everyone else looking.

The thing is, anything that could take his  _ ori’vod _ and Commander Tano without alerting Torrent Company - Cody is afraid for them.

“That would be wonderful, Satine,  _ vor entye _ ,” Kenobi says wearily, looks over at Cody again, and Cody keeps his expression stone, inclines his head in acknowledgement.

_ “Of course, Obi _ ,” she answers.

Kenobi drops his arm to his side, shakes his head. “I’m sure we’ll find them, Cody.”

“Of course, sir,” Cody says, tries to keep the bitter anxiety out of his voice. He wasn’t there to help, and that was not his fault, but it still burns, because Rex is his  _ ori’vod _ and they have always had each other and now Rex is  _ gone _ .

At least he’s with Commander Tano, who Cody knows won’t let anything happen to his  _ vod _ , if she can help it.

But anyone that could take both of them in the first place- Cody doesn’t know. He excuses himself from his General, goes back to the barracks. The 501st, and by extension the 212th, have been in a constant state of anxiety since the Captain and Commander were taken; part of it is their Generals’ worry, but they all care, too. Cody knows how both battalions look to his  _ vod _ , how every  _ vod _ who meets Commander Tano admires her (Cody thinks Fives is the one who’s made sure that stories of how much Commander Tano  _ cares _ about them have circulated, although he couldn’t say why).

And they are both lost. Maybe- maybe dead. And Cody has lost enough  _ vode _ over the years that listing all the names means that he has to plan, has to give himself two hours every few weeks to sit down and remember all of them, but the idea of adding his  _ brother’s  _ name to that list - his best friend, his  _ ori’vod _ \- makes him  _ sick _ .

His men all look at him as he walks into the barracks, and then they go back to what they were doing. They all know him, and they know his silence, his drawn face and icy-tense shoulders mean there’s been no news. He goes to his bunk, sits down in all his armor, and picks up his datapad to skim over some reports, doesn’t manage to read anything.  
He and Rex share armor; that means trust, and protection. And, just armor or no, it makes Cody feel marginally better knowing Rex has that, has the vibroblade Cody gave him - or at least, had them when he was taken. Because that means Cody didn’t completely fail, means he did _something_ to keep Rex safe.

Whether or not it does any good, in the end.

~~~

Exactly three hours after his abrupt departure from the room where General Skywalker has been staring at starmaps for days, Kix returns with two very powerful things: a sedative, and Senator Amidala.

Getting the Senator involved had been  _ General Kenobi’s _ idea, very casual, just,  _ have you tried asking Padme to help wrangle him? _

And Kix had just--stared. 

_ He told me a while ago he’s given up trying to argue with her, _ the General had added, a twinkle in his eyes.  _ But I suggest bringing a sedative with you, too. _

So here Kix is, with the Senator and a sedative and a sick feeling in his stomach and a pressure in the back of his head, hoping beyond hope that  _ maybe _ he can at least get his General to sleep for a few hours. (Scratch has been complaining about Cody’s lack of sleeping, too, and Kix thinks the Commander is going to find himself tied to a bed with a sedative in his blood if he doesn’t behave.)

“Not  _ now, _ Kix, I’m  _ busy,” _ are the first words out of his General’s mouth when Kix walks in--Skywalker doesn’t even look up from the starmap.

“Ani,” Senator Amidala says, and Skywalker  _ whips _ around, an almost comical look of surprise on his face. (It’d be funnier if Kix wasn’t so  _ worried.) _

“Padme?” he says, soft, and then he glares. “This is  _ cheating, _ Kix!”

Except then Skywalker crosses the space in three large steps and wraps his arms around the Senator--he  _ hugs the Senator!-- _ and buries his face in her hair, and Kix thinks maybe Skywalker doesn’t mind so much after all.

“Ani, Kix told me you haven’t slept since before you left for Felucia,” the Senator says (and since when are the two of them on a first-name basis?). “You aren’t going to be able to find Ahsoka and Rex if you don’t get some sleep.”

Validation, Kix decides, tastes  _ sweet. _

Skywalker pulls back and glares at Kix. “You put her up to this,” he says, enunciating sharply.

Kix lifts his hands in surrender, quickly hiding the sedative in his gauntlet, assuming an innocent expression. “I did nothing, sir! All I did was figure that someone should let the Senator know about the Commander, since they’re  _ friends, _ and then she started asking me questions about you and I just answered them, like  _ any good medic _ would do.”

“What happened to karking  _ patient confidentiality?” _ Skywalker snaps, and Senator Amidala grins mischievously, winks--kriffing  _ winks!-- _ at Kix.

And says, “Family members have the opportunity to access medical records, Ani, and I distinctly remember you and I agreeing it’d be a good way for me to keep track of you when you’re offworld.”

Family members?

“No karking  _ way,” _ Kix breathes, “Fives was  _ right?” _ Fives has been swearing up and down for  _ months _ now that  _ General Skywalker and Senator Amidala are probably married,  _ **_everyone_ ** _ knows they have a Thing going on, _ but Kix had  _ never-- _ of course, Fives  _ also _ swore up and down that there was  _ something _ going on between Rex and the Commander, and then right after the Lola Soyu mission Kix’d overheard him talking to Alpha about the fact that Rex had kriffing  _ kissed Commander Tano on the battlefield, _ so maybe Fives’ instinct in terms of…  _ romantic matters _ is actually somewhat reliable.

_ “Padme!” _ Skywalker practically  _ shrieks _ it, says, “the  _ kriff, _ if this gets out to  _ anyone--” _

And Senator Amidala smirks. “Patient confidentiality,” she says, simply. “Am I right, Kix?”

“Of course,” Kix answers. “After all, if I was to tell anyone, I’d owe Fives like three  _ hundred _ credits, so…” He trails off meaningfully, shrugs. “Your secret’s safe with me, sir.”

“Excellent,” the Senator says swiftly. “Now, are you going to come to bed, Anakin?”

“No,” Skywalker grumbles, churlishly, trying to turn back to the starmap. “I have to  _ find them--” _

Senator Amidala nods, once, and Kix slips up behind his General and injects the sedative before Skywalker can blink. The Senator smiles and nods and thanks him, but Kix can’t really return it as he walks back to the barracks. He’s too tired, and worried, and there’s too  _ much _ going on inside his head (and there’s prickling heat behind his eyes, where he pushes away all the things he  _ cannot know, _ cannot do, cannot  _ be), _ and so he just sighs and trudges to his bunk, only half-noticing the way the men’s eyes follow him, desperate for  _ any _ news.

“I heard Duchess Kryze is going to look,” Jesse says from by his elbow, startling him. “And you said Skywalker managed to get that pirate to agree, too?”

“Yeah,” Kix says tiredly, dropping down to sit on his bunk and put his head in his hands. “I got the General to sleep, finally.”

“How?” That’s Brii, and Kix doesn’t have to look up to just  _ know _ the kid’s eyes are wide. “I’ve been trying to convince him to, but it didn’t really work. So I just brought him more caf.”

“I brought him the Senator and then sedated him,” Kix mumbles. Starts pulling his armor off, piece by piece, piling it neatly beside his bunk. Keeps his head down, because if he looks up he’ll see the Captain’s empty bunk. The GAR doesn’t  _ care _ about Rex--if it weren’t for the Commander being missing, too, he’d already be listed as  _ MIA, presumed dead, _ and there’d be a new Captain, and the 501st would already be back out on the front. Apparently the GAR had already tried to get them back out on the front, at least, but because Commander Tano is missing General Skywalker had been able to refuse.

But how long will they get before their time runs out?

Kix hadn’t  _ wanted _ to sedate the General, but as a medic--the  _ senior medic, _ no less--he’s too damn  _ responsible _ to let his Jedi be a  _ di’kut. _ Doesn’t mean he hadn’t wished he could just let Skywalker keep looking. They’ve  _ gotta _ find Rex--and Commander Tano.

And they need to do it  _ soon. _

~~~

Jesse can’t be Captain.

As the most senior member of Torrent Company, Jesse would be the GAR’s first choice for a promotion to Captain to- to replace Captain Rex. But Jesse won’t be Captain, because he can’t, and because Rex is not dead.

On Felucia, they’d searched for  _ hours _ , the whole battalion and the 104th, combed through the stinking jungle, back and forth, scanning for them and shouting their names and determined they would find them, if they were there to be found. And there had been nothing, no sign of them, so Jesse had gone back to General Skywalker to tell him, to see if he had any suggestions.

And General Skywalker told him to call the troops back.

Jesse doesn’t understand how Captain Rex  _ does it _ . He’d given the order, but he still doesn’t know how he even got up the nerve to go on helmet comms and tell them all to  _ stop looking _ . Jesse has taken charge for Rex a few times before, but he’s never had to give that kind of order before, and he still doesn’t feel like he can look at his  _ vode _ . Except Kix - Kix understands. But Kix is busy, always, and has been worrying about General Skywalker, so Jesse mostly paces by himself and sits on his bunk and tries not to talk to anyone. He’s not doing Rex’s paperwork yet; Commander Cody has taken on the 501st’s casualty reports in addition to his own work.

Jesse sits down next to Kix, who’s in his blacks now, and drops his head into his hands. “Still nothing, then?” he says, quiet and harsh.

“Nothing,” Kix confirms.

“Karking hells,” Jesse says, roughly. They need their Captain and Commander back. Because without them - without them, so much will be  _ wrong _ , and their General will blame himself, and they won’t have their  _ aliit _ , and they’ll have to add two of the names that mean the most to their lists, and then. Then Jesse has to be Captain and someone else will be Commander and it  _ won’t be right _ .

“You okay,  _ ori’vod? _ ” Kix asks, quietly, and Jesse doesn’t look up although he knows his  _ vod _ will be staring at him.

“Of course I’m not.” He twists his hands together, hard, pushes his fingers along the curve of his gauntlet. “I don’t think we can find them.” They’re both alive, he  _ knows it _ , they have to be, but even if they’re still in this system - it’s a big system and they are two people lost in an unmarked freighter and no one’s heard anything and the only answer on comms is static.

“Then they’ll have to find us,” Kix says wearily, rubs his head. And Jesse knows the Jedi are looking, and that they’re already using the Force, but-

“Maybe you could try- could look for them. With the- you know.”

“ _ No _ , Jesse. General Skywalker has  _ tried _ that, has  _ been _ trying that. Probably General Kenobi too. What do you think I’m gonna be able to do that they can’t?”

“I can’t be Captain, Kix,” Jesse says, knows he sounds a little frantic.

“I know.” Kix puts a hand on his back, between his shoulder blades, and sighs. “It wouldn’t be any different, if I did,” he says quietly. “You know that.”

Jesse does know. But he can’t do anything himself where maybe Kix could, and it would just- feel better. “I  _ hate  _ this.”

“Yeah. We all do.”

And that’s all Jesse really knows for certain, today.

~~~

Master Plo Koon has always been an exemplary Jedi, at least once he outgrew his rebellious teenage years; he prides himself on his ability to maintain his empathy and compassion for sentient life (a skill many of his fellow Masters seem to have lost) without forming attachments, even in this war. For the most part, he is successful.

Sure, he is perhaps a bit too fond of his battalion, especially of Wolffe, but that is a common flaw in the Jedi Generals. Even Master Kenobi is overly fond of his men, overly attached to Commander Cody, but that is a natural thing, he thinks.

There is one attachment, however, that he has never managed to entirely sever, and it is entirely due to the memory of a too-small girl with her montrals bare stubs, her headtails not even past her chin, curled tiny in a cage she doesn’t fit in, her sunset arms pressed so tight against the bars the durasteel leaves indents. He’d pulled her out, wrapped her in Light and soothed away her terror, brought her clinging and crying to the Temple.

He had hoped to take her as his Padawan, once she grew old enough, little ‘Soka; but then the war came, and he has never been fond of war, and the front lines are no place for a child, so he had hoped she would remain safe as an Initiate, that the war would end quickly and he could claim her before she was sent to the Corps.

And then the Council had decided to assign little ‘Soka (no longer so little) to young Skywalker, despite him having only just obtained Knighthood and being a mere five years older than her. It  _ is _ a good match, Plo knows.

But perhaps something in him is… not  _ jealous, _ because that is an emotion that is not befitting a Jedi Master, but something that tastes bitter and pungent, like regret. It is not regret for the Jedi Ahsoka is becoming, but for what  _ could have been. _

Now, Plo thinks, perhaps  _ could have been _ is all he will ever have,  _ could have been _ and his memories of a small, scared girl wrapped tight around his leg.

He was there. He was there, and he sent Ahsoka to that back wall, and he ordered Skywalker to call his men in. And Plo is not usually one to think in terms of  _ fault, _ of  _ blame, _ because that way lies only guilt and cold and Darkness, but he thinks that much of the fault for this, for the vanishing of little ‘Soka, rests squarely on his shoulders. He, the only Master present.

And thus it is he who is at fault for Skywalker’s cloying guilt, so thick and heavy, and for the sorrow of his men, for the 501st and the 212th, and Plo does not think this way on a normal day, but this is hardly  _ normal. _ This is the loss--perhaps permanent--of one of the best, brightest young Padawans in the Order, and one of the strongest, most innovative and loyal clone troopers, perhaps in the entire GAR.

He still hopes that Skywalker can find them, can find their lost Padawan, their lost Captain, but just as Plo is well-aware that guilt leads only to a Darker road, he also knows full well that too much  _ hope _ can do the same thing, when all hope is lost, when one shatters like kyber crystal on durasteel. So he allows himself only the faintest glimmer of  _ hope, _ for the ones he has failed, and he breathes in and breathes out and he reaches for the quiet and the warmth, just as he taught little ‘Soka to do all those years ago, and he lets the Light take the fear and the sorrow away.


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello have some more fun scary times! Bloodthirsty lizard hunters are awful and we hate them.
> 
> Comments would be super appreciated!

He wakes up half-curled around Ahsoka again. It’s a small mercy, Rex thinks, that he’s woken up well before her; he’d put an arm around her and pressed his face against her montrals sometime in the middle of the night, and she’s holding onto the arm he has around her with both hands, like she’s hugging it. He sits up, awkwardly, tries to pull his arm away and she grabs on tighter. Definitely  _ such _ a koala. He thinks if he told General Skywalker the comparison his General wouldn’t stop laughing for an hour or two.

But that’s neither here nor there.

He carefully, deliberately tugs his arm free from her grip (even though the tight hold she has around his wrist feels reassuring), and stretches, glances around the hollow.

Kalifa is, unsurprisingly, awake, eyeing him with an inscrutable look on her face. O-mer and Jinx are awake too, picking berries out of the gathering baskets from the day before. Rex pushes himself smooth and easy to his feet, quickly checks outside (today is grey, but he thinks it won’t rain again). He walks over to Jinx and O-mer, ignoring the doubtful looks they’re giving him, and takes a tuber (hurray) and, reluctantly, some of the leafy things Ahsoka ate the day before.

It’s still better than rations.

There is a different energy in their small group today, Rex thinks, more urgency, and Kalifa’s already-intense face is tight and twisted with a kind of bitter worry that, oddly, reminds him of Kix.

He leans against the inside of the hollow to eat his food, watches the younglings moving efficient to get their own food, put away their things, put out the fire. Even though he’s paying attention to them, he still sees the moment Ahsoka shifts, reaches with one hand for nothing, and then goes still and pushes herself to sit upright.

“Good morning, Ahsoka,” Kalifa says wryly, and Ahsoka nods before twisting around, meeting Rex’s eyes.

He inclines his head with a small salute and keeps eating. He thinks they’re going to be moving a lot more today, and a lot faster, because Jinx said the hunters give Jedi one day to tire before hunting them.

Well, they’ve had their one day.

He thinks that means that today, they are the entertainment.

~~~

Ahsoka uncurls herself slowly, when she wakes up, a part of her instinctively reaching out for  _ Rex _ but feeling nothing. So he’s gone again. He’d been there when she fell asleep, after the storm died down and everything was a little bit  _ easier _ to breathe.

She sits up carefully, stretching, and hesitates a moment before shooting Kalifa (who’s watching her, tense and worried) a grin and a wink, and then holding out a hand, concentrating, and levitating some berries and green things out of the basket, across the hollow. O-mer  _ gapes, _ stunned, and even  _ Jinx _ looks a bit less bitter--she thinks they probably don’t have anything like the fine control  _ (finer  _ control, anyway) that it takes to do something like this. 

She catches the berries in one hand, the leaves in the other, starts eating in small, light nibbles, tilts her head to one side. “What’s the plan today?” she asks, curious, more about the obvious  _ tension _ heavy in the air and the Force than anything else.

There’s silence for a moment, thick and choking, and then Kalifa says, lowly, “We run.”

Right. “Anywhere in particular?” Ahsoka tries, raises an eyebrow.

“Away,” says O-mer, looking down at a berry.

“So they’ll be hunting us today,” she clarifies, and Jinx nods. So does Kalifa.

“They won’t be trying to kill you today, I don’t think,” the girl says, pushing herself to her feet and stretching. “It’s not so fun when you kill your Jedi right away. But they’ll chase you, play with you, learn how you think and how to hunt you, before they try to kill.”

Jinx shrugs, scrutinizing his fingers like they hold all the secrets to life. “Once, a padawan made it for almost a week,” he says. “Then he went mad. It was all the screaming that did it.”

She is  _ not _ looking forward to that.

“Eat quickly,” Kalifa presses, “we have to  _ go.” _

Fair.

So Ahsoka sighs and puts more focus and urgency into her food, finishes it fast and pushes herself to her feet, stretching out the cricks in her neck and spine and bouncing on her toes. “I’m not usually the hunted,” she admits, stretching up onto her toes and bending over backwards until her spine  _ cracks, _ grinning and sighing and straightening up again. Her hands instinctively go to where her lightsabers should be, and she grumbles indecipherably and makes a face. “They have to have a base, somewhere they organize their hunts,” she continues. “Have you found it?”

All three younglings shake their heads, and she frowns.

“Maybe we could steal a speeder and find out where it is. There’s gotta be a ship there, or  _ something _ we can use to make a ship…” and she frowns, fidgets with the hem of her dress absentmindedly. “What do you think, Rexter?”

~~~

Rex smiles a little, because he can tell that his Commander is looking forward to the prospect of fighting back - he is a little, himself, although with no armor or weapons, it's more daunting than he'd like. “Well, we saw them traveling in groups, yesterday, sir - correct me if I'm wrong,” nodding to Kalifa, “but it seems like they hunt in large packs, and if they're expecting to encounter a Jedi… Stealing a speeder wouldn't be simple, especially with no weapons. If we stole some of their weapons, though, maybe.” He trusts her, though - she's his Jedi and his Commander, so if she makes a plan and gives an order, he'll follow.

“We could turn the tables on them,” Ahsoka says, grinning fiercely.

Rex snorts, and smirks. “They wouldn't know what hit them, sir.”

Her smile turns into something sharper, deadlier. “Oh, I'll make sure they  _ do _ . This'll be the last time they ever kidnap a Jedi.”

Looking at her, Rex believes that, and he nods, a thrill of readiness and satisfaction slicing up his spine. He nods at Kalifa again, who's looking  _ bitter _ , and says, “What's the pattern? How do they run the hunt, where do they try to trap people - we need information, Kalifa, not more of these vague, scared warnings. We get it, she's gonna go mad or die. Why?” He notices she flinches when he says her name, although he's leaning against the wall of the hollow casually.

“We're the only ones who know these woods better than they do,” Kalifa says, reticent. “They like to let people think they've escaped, through a tight place or up a tree or in a cave, but they have other speeders waiting for them, or hunters on foot. We think they have calls that mean different things, it's all- it's really coordinated, but I don't understand how.” Kalifa rubs her hands together, anxiously, and Rex thinks she looks very young, suddenly. Maybe she's been here for two years, but she doesn't know how to analyze anything tactically, hasn't been trying to learn her enemies except enough to run from them. “They'll use the other prisoners or the screams to trap you, if they can't get you through other means. You can't be stupid enough to try to help anymore,” she says, switching her focus to Ahsoka again. “They'll just use it to kill you, or you'll go crazy trying to ignore it. You have to learn not to care.”

Ahsoka scowls, and says, sharp, “You're asking me to give up who I am as a Jedi.” As a person, too, Rex thinks. “I won't do that.”

“Then you'll die, like everyone else,” Jinx says, crossing his arms. “This isn't a game you can  _ win _ , you know, either you lose or you survive, but we can't  _ beat _ them.”

“All due respect,” Rex answers, meeting Jinx’s angry, defiant gaze. “But you three are untrained kids. You couldn't beat them by yourselves, that's true, but Ahsoka is, from my understanding, one of the best padawans in your Order, and a good Commander, too, and I've been running campaigns under her for two years. We know what we're doing. The odds aren't in our favor, sure, but that doesn't actually matter.”

As if to punctuate his statement (or to bely it), a series of shrill, feral howls echoes into their hollow, and O-mer shakes his head. “We need to go.”

Rex can't deny a sinking feeling of dread at the sounds, despite his bold statement. He curls his left hand around his other forearm so he doesn't reach for his blasters and shoots Ahsoka a worried look. They're still relatively ignorant about their situation, and it's only the two of them and three bitter, untrained children, all weaponless, against trained  _ hunters _ with blasters. For all his bravado, he's not sure how they'll make this work.

~~~

It’s easy, at first.

Ahsoka follows Kalifa, Jinx, and O-mer out of the hollow, knows Rex will want to be last, to cover their flank, and jogs behind the younglings down the branches, descending lower and lower; she’s expecting to return to the ground, like they’d done the day before, but to her surprise (though that doesn’t last long, because it does make sense, tactically) Kalifa leads them silent and swift through the trees, leaping from limb to limb. The younglings don’t seem very happy when Ahsoka hangs back each time, to make sure Rex makes it safely across, using the Force when necessary for longer jumps (to help balance him, mostly). Rex also doesn’t really like it, and she sees more than once the argument building on his lips, that she should just leave him (because it’s not  _ him _ the Trandoshans are after, really)--she forestalls him each time by simply turning and leaving again, always close enough that he’ll never be  _ left behind. _

He doesn’t like it.

Neither does Kalifa, who, when they finally descend to the ground to drink from a stream, pulls Ahsoka aside. “He cannot make the jumps,” she says firmly.

Ahsoka raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “That’s why I’m helping him.”

“It’s not safe. He’ll get us  _ caught.” _

“And if he does,” Ahsoka says, lowering her voice and taking a slow step forward, “then he’ll fight to get us  _ out _ again.” A pause, during which Kalifa tries to say something, but Ahsoka doesn’t let her. “Do you know anything about the old class of Mandalorians, Kalifa?”

The youngling blinks, thrown by the abrupt topic change. “... no?”

“Well, they were  _ extremely _ good fighters. One of them was this guy named Jango Fett, and he’s the one who they cloned to make the GAR. I did some reading on him while I was stuck in the medbay, and apparently he once killed five  _ Jedi Knights _ with his bare hands, okay?  _ That’s _ the guy who taught Rex hand-to-hand combat. So I  _ think _ it’s safe to say that  _ if _ we get caught because Rex is a bit slower, he’ll be able to get us out again.”

She holds Kalifa’s gaze for a long moment, then turns away and goes back to the stream, splashing water on her face and then taking a long drink from her cupped hands. O-mer is whispering something to Jinx, she thinks, probably about what she just said, but she ignores them, because there’s something…  _ else. _

Something faint, rattling, and Ahsoka lifts her head, tilts it to listen better, pushes herself to her feet. Somebody says something, and she holds up her hand, signals  _ silence, _ closes her eyes and  _ reaches, _ testing the Force. Using it to strengthen her already-sensitive hearing. There’s a faint hum of speeder engines  _ (kriff), _ and more distinct--animal calls? Echoing back and forth, with different pitches, coming in from two sides, and Ahsoka snaps her eyes open and signals, sharp, at Rex:  _ hostiles, two groups, north and west, outflanked. _

He nods, equally sharp, and she motions for the younglings to get back up in the trees, helps Rex up and then follows them. Except Kalifa’s trying to go the direction the Trandoshans are  _ herding them, _ and Ahsoka shakes her head,  _ hard. _ “It’s going to be a trap,” she snaps, quiet, “we need to go towards them and hopefully over them. They won’t expect it.” 

She can tell Rex agrees with her, and finally Kalifa nods and gives in, once again leading the way--but this time in the direction Ahsoka’s suggested. They have to climb higher to get over the speeders without being noticed, but she thinks it’s worth it--and they get a good view.

And for a moment, as they’re right over top the speeder and Ahsoka pauses to look down at it--flat metal platform with wire mesh half-walls and a bar going around the top, presumably for a handhold, some scanning equipment that’s currently turned off, piloting computer (obviously), two Trandoshans and, and, and a fully-automatic blaster cannon mounted on the front--she considers how  _ easy _ it’d be, just to ambush them from  _ here, _ jump down and take control of the speeder, utilize the blaster cannon to take out the other speeder she’s sure is somewhere. There’s even a blaster unused, tossed carelessly in a corner of the speeder, and neither Trandoshan is  _ looking _ at it; maybe, if she’s careful…

One of them has a long vibroblade, about the length of her shoto, tucked in his belt. 

She  _ wants it. _

Her fingers  _ itch _ to feel a hilt beneath them again, whether it’s a lightsaber or a vibroblade, just  _ something, _ and she’s already pulling in the Force to make a desperate grab when one of the Trandoshans lifts their flat, scaly head and says, singsong, “Here, little Jedi, come on out and  _ play,” _ and looks right up into the branches where she’s crouched.

_ Shit. _

Kalifa and the younglings are already moving, but as Ahsoka goes to stand the speeder  _ surges _ upwards and a clawed hand catches her just above the top of her boot, tearing through her leggings and leaving bloody scratches, and if she had her sabers it’d be so  _ easy _ but she doesn’t and so she grits her teeth and  _ shoves _ outward with one palm, even though that means the claws tear through more skin (it’s superficial, but she has a feeling they’re like those sharks she’d seen, also on that dumb Mon Cala nature holo, able to scent blood) and vaults up, taking off after the younglings with only a glance back to make sure Rex is behind her.

Everything turns into a blur very fast, after that.

It’s all pounding heart and gasping lungs, a stitch in her side from sprinting, smaller branches whipping her face and headtails and montrals, which  _ stings, _ sweat dripping down into her eyes and a perpetual feeling of being  _ chased, _ of constantly glancing back over her shoulder for her unseen pursuers (unseen, but not unheard; their cackling calls are constantly flitting back and forth, sending shivers of dread down her spine). There’s blood on her leg and three perfect clawmarks dragging down, equidistant around her knee, and she has a sinking feeling they’re tracking her in part by the smell of her blood. Because the Trandoshan who grabbed her has her blood on his claws.

_ Kriff. _

They need a new plan, something besides just  _ running, _ but what? How?  _ Need to lose them. _ She reaches for the Force, instinctive, but when it responds she realizes she doesn’t know what she wants to  _ do. _ (Hide, get somewhere safe, rest, get them off their trail.)

You can’t command the Force to do something when you don’t know what you want it to do, Ahsoka finds herself thinking, shaky, almost hysterical (because she shouldn’t want to  _ laugh _ at that). Because really, what  _ does _ she want?

Help.

She wants  _ help. _

But that’s vague, too vague, but she’s  _ tired _ already and her breaths are shallow and short in her chest and she thinks the Trandoshans are just  _ playing _ with them, pushing them to run to their limits while following behind on speeders, waiting for them to tire, and it’s not really intentional but she finds herself thinking  _ please. _

And the Force  _ answers. _

There’s an impression of  _ hiding, _ of wrapping around them all, of twisting and diluting scent, and Ahsoka’s shocked enough to stop running, because  _ what the kriff? _

The younglings stop too, turning to look at her, and Rex frowns like he’s afraid something’s wrong, but she just snorts, says quietly, panting, “Apparently the Force likes to be asked nicely.”

~~~

Whatever that means (Rex assumes it’s good), they still need to  _ move _ , he thinks - he can still hear the Trandoshans and as much as he’d like to try to fight, every instinct, from training or experience or basic animal survival, says they need to  _ get away _ . “Ahsoka,” he breathes, fast, “We need to keep going.”

Ahsoka leans over, peering at her bleeding leg, waving a hand at him. “It’s fine, we can rest a minute. The Force is hiding our scent.” She looks shocked and almost delighted, which seems reasonable if she’s right. Still, Rex can’t help twisting to look every time he hears another one of the shrilling howls or a hissing voice or the growl of a speeder’s engine, struggling to slow his breathing back to something steady, his legs a little shaky.

“Are you alright?” he says, gesturing tightly at her bleeding leg.

“Yeah,” she grumbles, sounds  _ annoyed _ , which means she probably actually  _ is _ alright. “The  _ sleemo _ tore my leggings.”

“That’s what’s concerning you right now,” Rex says dryly, shifting from foot to foot and glancing over his shoulder, hand locked around his wrist again. “Your leggings.”

“I  _ like _ them,” she says, piqued, “This is my  _ favorite pair _ .”

Rex snorts. “I’m sure you can find another pair when we get home, sir.”

She humphs, glances around a second. “I think we should sit a minute.”

The younglings exchange looks, but they look awed, so when Ahsoka plops down to sit on the branch, they silently follow suit. Rex doesn’t want to - the Trandoshans may not be able to smell them, but they could still  _ find _ them, and they need to be ready to move. He shifts where he stands but doesn’t sit down, until Ahsoka sighs, exasperated, and grabs his right forearm, tugs hard. “Just  _ sit down _ , Rex.”

He sighs and bends, eases down next to her. She doesn’t let go of his arm even when he’s seated, though, just pushes at his hand around his wrist till he loosens his grip and sets that hand down on the branch next to him. He should probably want her to let go, but her grip feels reassuring, safe, an anchor against his racing heartbeat. He’s quiet for a moment, then says, “What did you mean, ‘the Force likes to be asked nicely’?”

She shrugs a little, pushes one of her headtails off her shoulder. “I didn’t know what to do with it, but I knew I had to do something, so I just- I said please. And it did this.”

Knowing what he knows about the Force (which is still precious little, even after Mortis), Rex doesn’t find himself surprised by that. He thinks the Force, besides being terrifying and painful and powerful, is a  _ pretentious asshole _ . “Well, thank the Force, then,” he says, flat.

Ahsoka laughs at him, her sunlight-on-waves eyes sparkling, and says, “May the Force be with you.” She giggles, and Rex rolls his eyes.

“I’d rather it wasn’t. I told you, it  _ hurts _ .”

The younglings look  _ confused _ , Rex thinks, and O-mer opens his mouth like he’s going to ask a question, except Jinx smacks him. Rex is reminded, painfully, of Tup and Brii.

“Look,” Ahsoka says. “Mortis was, like Obi-Wan said, not somewhere you should have been.”

“Well, I was there, and the Force  _ hurts _ . So ‘may the Force be with’  _ you _ , but I’m okay without it.”

“Well, I was there, and I  _ died _ , but you don’t see  _ me _ complaining,” she says, poking him with her free hand.

“I’m complaining about that too, actually.”

“Um,” says O-mer, and Jinx smacks him again when Rex turns to look at them but he ignores it, “What are you  _ talking _ about?”

“It’s a little complicated, kid,” Rex huffs, “but just remember that the Force is an asshole, except for the Light part of it, and you should be fine.”

“Rex!” Ahsoka punches him in the shoulder, although  _ why _ that is he has no idea. “That is  _ not _ the takeaway here.” She leans forward, meets O-mer’s eyes, and Rex smirks and lets her do her Jedi thing and explain it the “right” way. Although he’s right, too. “You know how I said I saw Anakin control literal Force gods?” The younglings all nod, hesitantly. “Well, there was this planet, and there were these three Force gods, and one of them killed me but the other one saved me, and Anakin killed them, and it was  _ really weird _ .” And there was the part where Rex almost killed her, but maybe they’d better not try to explain that to the younglings, who already don’t like him much. Ahsoka’s still rambling a little bit, “Except the one who killed me killed the one who saved me, on accident…” She pauses, bites her lip to think, and Rex snorts and looks down, shaking his head. “It was really strange, and also makes  _ no sense _ if you weren’t there.”

“I  _ was _ there and it makes no sense,” Rex says, matter-of-factly, earns a half-smile from Jinx.

Kalifa has a thoughtful look on her face, intent, and she nods. “Why were you there?”

“There was a distress call from, what was it, two thousand  _ years _ prior to the time we got the signal?” Rex says. “So we couldn’t just leave well enough alone, we had to check it out.”

“Stop complaining, Rexter.” Ahsoka smooths her thumb over the inside of his wrist, rolling her eyes.

He grumbles under his breath, glances around again. The Trandoshans  _ seem _ to have moved away from them, because the sounds of their calls are getting fainter, and Rex goes to stand and (reluctantly) pull his arm away from Ahsoka. She gets up with him, but won’t let go of his forearm, and it feels too  _ safe _ for him to want to insist on tugging his arm away, so he sighs and lets it be.

~~~

“We should follow them,” Ahsoka decides, giving Rex’s arm a light squeeze--she’s noticed him holding onto his forearm (like he’s missing the comforting weight of his armor, or something), but she isn’t sure exactly  _ why _ he does it. There’s got to be a reason--but he seems more  _ relaxed, _ when there’s some pressure there (and she  _ almost _ wants to think he looks calmer when  _ she’s _ holding onto him), and so… she hadn’t really  _ thought, _ just taken his arm, half-expecting him to pull away.

But he hadn’t, and now she doesn’t know what to do, because she doesn’t want to let go.

“They left,” O-mer says, cautiously. “We could go back to the treehouse, or maybe get more food.”

“Yeah,” says Jinx, sharp, bitter. “Why would we  _ follow _ them?”

“We need weapons,” Ahsoka says instantly. “They had blasters, and one of them had a vibroblade, about as long as my shoto. If I could get that… it’s not a lightsaber, but it’s close enough, and it’s the right length.” She tilts her head to one side, considering. “I haven’t fought with only one ‘saber in a while, but I swear Anakin made it so I can do the forms in my sleep.”

“She’s right,” Rex says quietly. “We need weapons, and they won’t be expecting us to follow them.”

“They don’t know where the treehouse is either,” Kalifa points out, and Ahsoka scowls.

“And if we go back there, then what’ve we accomplished?”

_ “Survival!” _

Ahsoka shakes her head. “Survival isn’t  _ enough, _ Kalifa. You’ll be stuck here until you karking  _ die  _ if that’s all you focus on. Do whatever you want, but I’m getting back to my Master, and I’m gonna kriffing get Rex back to his men.”

She owes him that much, at least. She knows how important they are to him.  _ (More important than you are.) _ So she holds Kalifa’s gaze until the youngling nods and then says, quietly, “We need to forage and refill the water. You and your Captain go, and I will take Jinx and O-mer. Meet back at the treehouse tonight.”

Ahsoka nods, tiredly. “Come on, Rexter, let’s get going.”

~~~

This feels better, Rex thinks (slipping through the trees after the hunters, silent and steady and measured), than running, because even if they are still too close to  _ danger _ , now it’s on  _ their  _ terms and they have a plan. And since it’s no longer chaos and no longer  _ panic _ , he can keep up with Ahsoka, doesn’t feel like he’s slowing her down - running through these trees is beginning to feel easier, less precarious, even if he will never get used to the  _ height _ of them.

He wonders if the Trandoshans know they’re following, or if the hunters have  _ really _ become the hunted. He doesn’t bother suggesting that because he knows Ahsoka will already have thought of that, and that is part of why they’re going so careful.

They don’t know their way through these woods, that’s the real problem. They’re staying just behind and a little above the hunting party, watching for the right chance to steal weapons (maybe a speeder, too, if they’re lucky), but if there was an ideal place to attack, or one where they  _ definitely should not _ , they don’t know what it is.

Then, on a shrieking signal of some kind, all the Trandoshans stop, and Rex freezes, his breath hitching to barely a whisper, Ahsoka balanced so, so still next to him on a twisted, thorny branch.

“I think I smell something over that way,” one of them hisses, points to his left, which  _ seems _ safe.

“The Jedi?” growls another.

“No, but it smells  _ delicious _ ,” the first voice says. “It’s frightened.”

“Go after it if you want. I want the Jedi.”

Rex looks at Ahsoka, and she nods at him. They watch the Trandoshan that scented something hesitate a second, tongue flicking out to taste the air, then he says, “Good hunting, then. I want to have some fun.”

When the hunter leaves the pack on his own, following that new scent, he has two shadows in the trees. Rex thinks, as they trail him, that Ahsoka is a  _ real _ huntress, the real danger, here - the  _ thing _ they’re following is just a pretender, almost  _ primitive _ .

Ahsoka is a dire-cat, graceful and silent and deadly, and Rex thinks the Trandoshans will regret trying to outmatch her.

Rex stays at Ahsoka’s shoulder and waits for her signal to attack, and it’s not until the Trandoshan lets out a whoop of excitement and there’s a small shriek of terror that Ahsoka signals  _ now _ and flings herself out of the trees for the speeder. Rex jumps after her, slams down onto the floor of the speeder as Ahsoka lands lightly on the front of the vehicle and launches herself at the hunter, slams both feet into his chest and knocks him half off the speeder. Rex grabs the creature’s scaly leg, as she lands, and heaves him off the speeder entirely, onto the ground.

And realizes suddenly that no one’s piloting the speeder and it’s hurtling for a tree, so he grabs Ahsoka by the shoulder and jumps, lets go of her once they’re clear so he can tuck into a roll and shove himself into a low crouch to face the Trandoshan, who’s struggling to his feet, snarling. The speeder roars into the tree and there’s a brief, escalating clatter and whine of engines and then a small explosion; neither Rex nor Ahsoka bothers turning around, and Rex can  _ almost _ feel the Force crackling dangerous around his Jedi.

~~~

The speeder goes flying into the tree and Ahsoka almost,  _ almost _ makes a grab for the controls, but then Rex rips her away, lets go, rolls into a fighting position, and Ahsoka grumbles inaudibly and follows suit. The Trandoshan has a  _ blaster, _ of course, but she sees something--something  _ far _ more interesting to her: a small vibroblade, a dagger really, clutched tight in one sweaty palm.

She  _ wants it. _

She reaches for the Force and shoves a raw wave of it at the Trandoshan, flinging him back into a rock, and then she gestures briefly at Rex and lunges forward, twisting away from a blaster bolt, and goes for the creature’s arm, where the vibroblade is clutched tight. Except the Trandoshan sees her coming and throws that arm out, nearly skewering her (she catches his wrist and twists it, finds the nerve and forces his fist open, and the precious dagger clatters to the ground), and then slams her backwards to the rock behind him, an arm across her throat, simultaneously firing at Rex with the blaster. Rex swears as the rapid fire forces him  _ away, _ sounds  _ worried, _ but Ahsoka doesn’t need him for this (he’s taught her enough). 

She drives a boot into the Trandoshan’s knee, buckling it, says, “Rex, the blaster!” and throws herself onto the hunter’s back and shoulders, using her weight to help force him down. Force-pulls the vibroblade into her palm. The Trandoshan turns the blaster in her direction, belts out some kind of call, and Rex, no longer pinned down by blasterfire, lunges forward. Grabs the hunter’s arm and helps Ahsoka wrangle him to the ground, pulls the blaster free, and fires two quick shots into the creature’s skull, killing him.

And just like that, they’re armed.

Except there’s an answering call, rhythmic and knocking, and then a  _ roar _ and a wave of blasterfire--one of those  _ damn _ blaster cannons--and Ahsoka  _ swears, _ signs  _ up _ at Rex and vaults into the tree (her foot is pinned under the dead Trandoshan’s too-heavy body and it wrenches painfully  _ wrong _ and hot when she jumps), catches herself against the trunk and helps Rex climb up with her. He takes careful aim, returns fire through the foliage, but then a bolt sears so close to her headtail she can feel the heat and she says, “We need to  _ go now.” _

~~~

Rex slings his ( _ his _ ) blaster rifle over his shoulder with its attached strap, feels a blaster bolt burn a hot line across his ribs, and nods, slips into a run as Ahsoka does. The shots from the blaster cannons are indiscriminate, but they’re  _ everywhere _ , and  _ powerful _ , so the best they can do is flee up, through the branches, the blaster bolts slashing into the trees around them, sending splinters and bark flying. He feels another one score his neck and swears, pushes himself faster (thinks he feels Ahsoka helping him balance with the Force).

They don’t know where they’re going, so it’s all just wood and dust and grit and crashing through thinner branches and moving up and forward, all the time, to who-knows-where, blasterfire keeping Rex running at his limit, even though it  _ burns _ and he can’t get a real breath anymore. His focus is only Ahsoka and not falling and  _ surviving _ until somewhere, sometime, there are no more blaster shots, and he realizes that some time back, he stopped hearing the Trandoshans’ cries so close and the engine sounds died to a hum, distant.

And he grabs Ahsoka’s arm and drags her to a stop, clings to a branch with one hand. “‘Soka,” he coughs, exhaustion slamming heavy into his lungs, making his chest ache. “We lost them. Ahsoka.”

She's breathing almost as hard as he is, although he'd guess the Force helped her endurance. He holds onto her shoulder, twists her a little so he can look at her. She's covered in scratches, a couple blaster burns on her headtails and back, and Rex swears. “Kriffing hells.”

It's a long couple minutes before either of them can  _ breathe _ again, and Rex realizes he's still holding on to Ahsoka’s shoulder. And she has a vibroblade. And he has a blaster. So despite the bruises and scrapes and burns, they're  _ so much _ better off than they started. “You good?” he pants, and she nods.

“Fine.”

Probably banthashit, but none of her injuries look too serious. “Do you know where we are?”

“I was following their Force signatures. The younglings.”

“Are we close?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,  _ gods _ .” It's a relief. Almost safe. Almost. Almost. “Okay, we have to go.”

And they do, a little slower, scrambling up through the branches until everything's clearer, till they see the hollow and the branch and they make their way across, Rex jumping the distance first and then, more clumsily than usual, Ahsoka joins him.

“Oh, thank the Force!” Kalifa runs up to them, helping Ahsoka up, her eyes so wide and anxious. “We thought you- We heard the hunt, the blaster cannons.”

“Not yet,” Rex says, wryly, crossing to the fire and dropping down next to it. He slings the blaster off his back to examine it as Ahsoka limps over to him and plops onto the ground too, with a wince, and starts looking at her ankle. “Alive, and I've got a blaster. So not a bad day.”

“It won't work,” Jinx says, sounds almost…  _ worried _ . “They'll have disabled the blaster remotely the second they realized you have it.”

Rex stops sighting down the barrel of the blaster, flips the weapon up, aims out of the hollow, yanks the trigger.

Nothing.

Disappointment, fear hit like a splash of icy water and he slaps the rifle down on the ground, curls his fingers hard and claw-like around his right forearm.  _ Damn it _ , he'd almost been able to  _ do something _ ; for just a little while it had felt  _ damn _ good to be able to really fight. It shouldn't upset him so much, he's just back where he started anyway.

~~~

“I’ve got a vibroblade,” Ahsoka volunteers, setting the dagger down beside her and tugging her right boot off with a swear.  _ Damn it, _ her ankle is swollen already, hot to the touch, and she swears. “Foot got caught when I was jumping into the trees,” she tells the younglings, because they’re looking on with sharp concern.

She stretches her leg out, ignores her ankle for now--it’s a minor sprain, probably, gonna be sore but nothing worrisome if she can wrap it and get it back in her boot, and get the swelling down too. The small cuts all over her back and headtails (which she sees Rex has a few of his own, on his face and neck and hands) sting, and the shallow burns from grazes--one on her left headtail, high up, and another somewhere in the middle of her back, longer and shallower even--hurt, but she’s had worse, and they’re all superficial.

Shouldn’t cause her much trouble. They’ll hurt, but she’s dealt with worse pain, before (and unbidden her mind flashes back to Lola Soyu, of fighting, of Rex having to carry her, of Sobek and--and no, she can’t think about that). She’s more worried about the way Rex has grabbed onto his forearm again, tightly enough he’s digging in with his fingernails, because blacks might be  _ tough _ but he could still hurt himself like that.

So she scoots herself closer to him, quietly reaches over and peels his hand off his arm, pushing the sleeves of his blacks up a little bit to reveal half-moon indents where his nails bit into the skin, red and puffy. Ahsoka looks up at Rex, swallows (she doesn’t  _ understand, _ really, why he’s doing this, but she knows it has to do with being here, being worried), and then closes her eyes, reaches for a warm wave of tingling Force and--she’s not very good at this, normally, so she tries  _ asking  _ instead, just  _ please take the pain and the bruise away, _ and the Force  _ does. _

Leaving Ahsoka to sit with both her hands around Rex’s bare wrist.

“Why?” she asks, hesitant, after a long pause. She isn’t sure Rex will want to tell her, especially with the younglings around, but… she wants to know.

Almost absently, she sweeps her thumb back and forth across the space where the nail marks had been, soothing (and she tries not to think about how smooth and  _ warm _ his skin is on her palm).

~~~

It takes Rex a moment to understand what Ahsoka is asking him, why she’s so concerned about this, about a couple more scratches on his arm. He wasn’t being that careful, sure, but it’s not actually a big deal. “Thanks,” he says, slowly, trying to parse an answer to the question, to  _ why _ . Both her hands wrapped around his forearm makes him feel  _ steadier _ than he’s felt for a while, which is- is a problem, probably. “You mean-” He gestures at his arm, and she nods. He shrugs.

When Cody got promoted to Commander, a few years ago, he and Rex had gone out for drinks, and had gotten  _ just _ tipsy enough that Cody, even more straight-laced than he is now, had suggested they exchange armor. Rex, thanks to the alcohol, had gotten kind of teary, but they’d swapped right bracers. So Rex’s right bracer has a wide stripe of 212th orange, and Cody’s is 501st blue. It’s a reminder, most times, that he has Cody, that they’re going to protect each other.

And they took Rex’s armor, and Cody’s bracer with it.

“I don’t really know,” Rex says, more because he doesn’t know how to explain than anything else. “I don’t- I don’t like not having my armor.”

Ahsoka nods, almost like she expected that - or the kind of answer - and looks down. “If that’s all, then,” she says, mildly, but Rex thinks she’s disappointed, or frustrated, because she takes her right hand off his arm and pulls her new vibroblade out of her belt and starts twisting it in between her fingers.

Cody had given Rex his vibroblade, too. After he’d earned his jaig eyes. Cody had been the only one who understood that Rex didn’t want to be  _ proud _ of that, yet.

“Mostly it’s my bracer, though,” Rex says, quietly, keeping his voice very steady. “For this arm. I have one from Cody because he’s my  _ ori’vod _ \- I mean, because he’s my…” He searches for the right way to explain it in Basic, but nothing  _ fits _ quite right. “Best friend. My brother. We know we’re going to protect each other.” He stops, because that doesn’t  _ explain _ it, really.

“ _ That’s _ why your one bracer is orange,” she says, sounds fascinated, and Rex smiles a little.

“Yeah. Cody’s got mine. When you’re really close with a  _ vod _ -” and he isn’t sure why he’s explaining this much to her, “-sometimes you share armor, or paint each other’s armor. It means you’re keeping each other safe. Even if you aren’t there.” He balls his right hand into a fist, watches his knuckles turn white. “And they took it.”

Ahsoka sets down her vibroblade and soothes her hand over his fist, and he thinks she understands what he’s not quite managed to say. “We’ll get it back,” she tells him, and he wants her to be right. Mostly, though, he wants his  _ ori’vod _ , wants safety, wants to feel like he isn’t doing this alone. Ahsoka pulls back the hand on his fist, picks up her vibroblade again. “Anakin got me my bracers,” she says, and Rex smiles a little despite himself.

Says, “You mean the leather ones that don’t protect you worth bantha fodder?”

“Shut  _ up _ , Rex.” He huffs, but does shut up; he thinks she was probably going somewhere with that. She gives him a  _ look _ before continuing, like she wants to make sure he’s not going to say anything else stupid. “He got me them, and it helps… it feels kind of like he’s still here, even though I can’t feel him.” She shrugs a little, almost sheepish, and Rex nods, warmly, because he’s grateful she understands, is trying to communicate that.

“Yeah,” he says. He rubs his left hand against the pants of his blacks, sighs. “So the… so pressure feels better. On my arm.” That makes him a touch defective, he thinks, but no one’s going to know except Ahsoka, and he knows her well enough to know she doesn’t care about that very much.

* * *

 

The next morning is… different, somehow.

Ahsoka wakes up to find that in the night she’d somehow grabbed Rex’s hand and tucked it under her cheek; she lets herself nestle a bit closer, just for a minute, to luxuriate in the feel of his hand against hers, and then she sighs. Reminds herself  _ friends, _ and lets go, pushes herself to sit up and poke at her ankle again.

She’s gonna have to figure out a way to wrap it, give it more support, or it’ll probably give out on her.

Ahsoka considers for a moment, then tugs her other boot off, picks up her vibroblade, and--grumbling under her breath--carefully starts cutting her leggings off at the knee. “My  _ favorite pair,” _ she mutters, does the same to her other leg. Jams her left foot back into her boot, even though it’s less comfy without her leggings, and starts cutting the fabric into strips.

“What are you doing?” O-mer asks, curiously, bringing over the basket of food.

Ahsoka sighs. “I sprained my ankle,” she tells him, grumbly, and sighs again, dramatically. “Which means I have to ruin my  _ favorite leggings _ so I can wrap it, or I’ll make it worse.”

“To be fair, sir,” Rex says, his voice still rough with sleep, “they were already torn.”

She stabs vaguely at him with her vibroblade, threatening. “You shut up.”

She hears him sitting up behind her, and then he clears his throat and says, “It might be easier if I did that for you, sir.”

“Yeah,” she says, twisting around to face him and making a face. “I hope it’ll go back in my boot, it’s kinda swollen and my boots are tight.” Her feet have grown since she’d gotten them, and they’re  _ almost _ too-small. Not enough to be uncomfortable, but… with a swollen ankle? She twists her lips together, pokes at her ankle again, and then swears.  _ Ow. _ She should maybe  _ not do that. _

Rex takes the strips of cloth, and she extends her leg so he can take her foot and put it in his lap, carefully winding the makeshift bandages beneath her heel and the arch of her foot and up around her ankle itself, until it’s tight and he’s out of fabric, and then he ties it off with a sigh. “How’s that feel?”

Ahsoka flexes her ankle, cautiously, nods to herself--she can still bend it, but not as much as before, and with her boot on it’ll be better. She wiggles her toes and pokes his stomach lightly with her foot, says, “Thanks, Rexter,” and pulls back so she can get her boot on. Which is a  _ process, _ but not too bad, all things considered, and she stands, bounces on the balls of her feet, and then twists to one side like she’s dodging a blaster bolt or performing a ‘saber form, and nods again. It twinges, but it holds. “Yeah, it’ll hold, as long as I’m not fighting too much,” and she sighs, grumbles. “I really wish I had a longer vibroblade, though.”

“We’ll find you one,” Rex says, and she nods. 

“I hope. If I could get one…” and she smiles at Kalifa. “I haven’t fought with only one ‘saber in a while, but I still know the forms, Anakin taught me Djem Sho.” She shrugs. “We’ll have a real chance, then.”

“We’ll find a way,” Rex promises, and she smiles gratefully at him, drops back down by the basket of food. They’ll have to eat quickly, she thinks.

Somehow, she has a feeling today is going to change  _ everything. _

~~~

They don't have time to eat. They're moving fast, but even still, before they can finish, they hear the hunt erupt into sound  _ close,  _ on  _ all sides _ , and Kalifa swears and rushes for the entrance of the hollow, looks out. “We need to go  _ now, _ before they catch our scent. They can't find this place.” And then she scrambles back in the shelter, hisses, “I saw a speeder.”

If they get trapped in this hollow, they're kriffed, and racing speeders through the treetops isn't going to work. They need to get  _ down _ , and not be seen or heard or scented. Besides that, the Trandoshans are being louder today, more boisterous, and Rex worries that means there's a plan, a trap - something they don't  _ know _ .

He hesitates, then sweeps up the near-useless blaster and swings it over his shoulder, across his back. It'll be good as a bludgeon if nothing else. “Let's go. If we're fast, we should be fine.”

“But what if they see us?” O-mer says, anxious.

“They won't if we time it right and we're  _ fast _ ,” Rex says, almost starts barking orders except he's not the superior officer here and these are children.

“Do you know how to use the Force to make people not want to look at you?” Ahsoka asks them.

A little extra Jedi precaution is certainly never a bad idea.

“No,” Kalifa says.

Ahsoka quickly explains it to all three of them, something about making themselves seem like  _ nothing _ \- as far as Rex can understand, it's like a mind trick, convinces people that what they saw was not important, was not even real.

“We can try that on the run,” Rex says, shortly, peering out of the hollow again. The hunt is still so close, but he sees no one immediately near them, so - “It's time to go.”

He doesn't wait for them, knows they're coming, just drops over the edge of the hollow, free-falls some three meters to land in a crouch on a lower branch. He eases back close to the tree trunk, reaches out (needlessly) to steady Ahsoka when she jumps down. The younglings follow, and they keep moving. They cover as much downward distance on each jump as Rex can manage, but they don't make it very far before there's a high-pitched whistle and a shout, “Dar, over here!”

So the hunters aren't trying to be stealthy today. “They're going to try to run us down,” Rex says tensely.

Ahsoka nods, and they keep going.

~~~

The Trandoshans follow them down, in a few speeders, whooping and hollering; Ahsoka clings to Rex’s shoulder as she lands on a branch too thin to properly balance on, hops down to join him on the thicker branch just below it. She  _ hates _ this, knowing the only thing between them and their… probably painful death is  _ how fast _ can they go?

How fast can they go  _ anyway _ doesn’t really  _ matter, _ because the hunters have speeders and better weapons and--but they don’t have the Force, that’s her advantage, she and the younglings. They can go faster, last longer. 

(But Rex can’t.)

It’s just a few more jumps before they hit the ground, somewhere they haven’t been before, somewhere with massive thorn bushes and piles of shattered rock, dried yellow grasses and the massive trees but spread further apart, now. It makes it easier for them to run, but there’s less cover and there’s more room for the Trandoshans to get their speeders through. Ahsoka stumbles occasionally, her ankle sore and aching, and Rex grabs her arm and tugs her onward. It’s all aching sides and sharp, short, gasping breaths and exhaustion, and she risks glancing back over her shoulder once, finds that there’s a few speeders that’ve peeled off, probably to form a perimeter, and the rest are--herding them?

Shavit, they’ve got to  _ move. _ Set this on their own terms.

~~~

Rex  _ knows _ their path is being chosen for them, and also that this is all a trap, but there’s not much he can  _ do _ about it, ultimately, not limited in resources and information as he is, so that means running and letting the Trandoshans control the playing field until Ahsoka can come up with a plan or until they figure out what’s happening, where they’re going.

Here the ground is hard, and every pouding step sends up sprays of grey-yellow dust, and there’s no use trying to be quiet, even for the Jedi. The Trandoshans know where they are, now, and there’s nothing they can do about it, and nowhere to lose them in these rocks and thorns, and nowhere to  _ hide _ . So that means running, which is exactly what the hunters want, and Rex saw some of the speeders peeling off to flank them, and they’re running-

_ Kriff _ . “Commander!”

“I see!” she says.

They’re running into a ravine of sorts, boulders plateauing and rising up on either side of them, forcing them (he’s sure) to a chokepoint, but they have time to get out if they’re fast.

Ahsoka leaps up toward the edge of the ravine, Rex getting a hand up himself to drag himself out, and blaster bolts shriek wild into the stone by their hands, a speeder gusting so close to their faces it almost knocks into them.

Shit, shit, shit, they’re gonna be slaughtered like mynocks, but he still has to jump down again and they have to run  _ exactly _ where they’re supposed to, because they didn’t know where they were going and now they’re trapped.

Rex thinks the younglings look more scared than he’s seen them this entire time.

And then, as the ravine walls reach their highest point and level out (and the Trandoshans could have shot them from above already on speeders, but that wouldn’t be enough  _ fun _ ), the narrow space suddenly widens into a sort of clearing, still surrounded by high walls, and the whine of speeders cuts from just behind and around them to suddenly distant, behind them.

Which means it’s time for something  _ else _ , and Rex puts his back to the wall of the ravine and slings his blaster rifle off his shoulders, Ahsoka dropping back to stand next to him, flicking out her vibroblade (a fairly long dagger but not by any means long  _ enough _ ). The younglings do the same, and they’re staring at the two of them, at a loss (for the first time) as to what to do.

“Kriffing  _ focus _ ,” Rex tells them. “It’s all a game, so we can beat them at it, but you have to be  _ ready _ .”

~~~

For a long moment, there’s nothing at all, and Ahsoka starts eyeing the trees, looking for a possible way  _ out, _ over the edge of the ravine and back towards the forest where they can actually  _ hide. _ She realizes she’s fallen instinctively into the opening stance for a form, despite only having a too-short vibroblade (about half the length of her shoto, she can’t just rely on the usual saber forms for this), and she grumbles under her breath, wracks her brain for any suitable combat technique.

There’s nothing, really.

So improvisation it is, then.

And then a single Trandoshan walks into the box canyon, a blaster rifle slung over his shoulder, a single speeder hovering in the distance (not too far away, close enough to watch but far enough not to be a factor in the fight).

If Rex’s blaster worked, the karking thing would be  _ dead _ by now.

But unfortunately, the only real weapons they have are Ahsoka’s own vibroblade and the Force itself, so… 

“Rex,” Ahsoka says, voice low, “cover them,” and she jerks her hand at Jinx and O-mer. They’re younger, smaller, less able to defend themselves, and she doesn’t think the Trandoshan is after her. In fact, she  _ knows _ he’s not, because he pulls his blaster and aims as he comes closer, laughing, and the sights are set on  _ her. _

Shit.

Ahsoka twirls the vibroblade and then grits her teeth, bends her knees, preparing to spring (senses Kalifa preparing to do the same beside her), and then she waits.  _ Patience, Snips, _ a memory of Anakin’s voice whispers, and so she waits, waits, waits, lets the Trandoshan creep ever-closer. “I am Dar, son of Garnac, and  _ you, _ Jedi whelp, have the honor of being my  _ first _ Jedi kill.” And his forked tongue flickers out to lick his lips.

_ Dar. _ What a  _ great _ name, Ahsoka thinks, and she grits her teeth, clenches her fist tight around the vibroblade’s hilt, takes another deep breath. Kalifa’s looking to her for a hint, a sign, and the Force feels  _ confused; _ Ahsoka ignores that, centers herself,  _ focuses _ laser-sharp and intent.

And then the Force says  **_now_ ** and she  _ reaches, _ swipes her free hand to one side and jerks the blaster off-course as Dar fires, once, twice, three times, and then the Trandoshan snarls and flings the blaster over his shoulder and lunges.

And Ahsoka says, “Now, Kalifa!” and  _ leaps _ forward, at the same time  _ pushing, _ and with the two of them Force-shoving in concert they actually manage to throw Dar off his feet. Ahsoka pushes herself into a sprint, asking the Force for more speed, makes it to the Trandoshan’s side just as he roars and leaps up, slams a hand into Kalifa’s stomach and throws her to the ground a couple meters away. Ahsoka  _ swears, _ jumps back to avoid his hands (his arms are  _ unnaturally _ long and his claws scratch across her upper arm, drawing blood, just enough to excite him); ducks under a spinning kick and dives backwards, Force-shoving him back as he goes to tackle her. Kalifa pushes herself slowly, carefully, to her feet, and Ahsoka flips up as well (and her ankle twists beneath her weight and she  _ swears). _ A jerk backwards to avoid another grab, and then she’s driving her boot into Dar’s ankle, drawing an angry hiss of pain from him.

Which is good.

Except that puts her within reach of his arms, and he gets a hand over her face, trying to force her down to the ground, and she can’t  _ see-- _ it’s instinct and feel and a breath of Force that allows her to find his elbow, drive the vibroblade in  _ hard, _ drop to the ground and roll away and to her feet. She coughs, rubs one hand over her blurring eyes, hears a shout of warning and then something  _ cracks _ and she snaps onto the defensive and focuses again to see Kalifa flying into the wall.  _ Kriff. _

And Dar is coming for  _ her, _ for Ahsoka, laughing and snarling and tasting the air, backing her into a corner--she prepares herself, counts down the seconds, tightening her fingers around her vibroblade, and then--

_ Jumps. _

Flips in midair, intending to land behind the Trandoshan with her vibroblade in the ideal position to attack his unprotected back, except--except Dar anticipates the move, snaps a too-long arm up and catches her by the wrist, turns her jump into sideways momentum and before she can react (kriff, oh  _ kriff) _ he lets go and there’s an endless moment of  _ suspension _ before her back and head crash into the wall and stars flash across her vision, the air draining from her lungs.

(Something in her  _ commands _ her to get to her feet, but she’s choking on emptiness and she can’t, she can’t, she can’t.)

~~~

Ahsoka hits the wall and then the ground and lies crumpled, not moving, so Rex grabs O-mer and Jinx’s shoulders and pushes them towards the wall of the ravine, says, “ _ Stay back _ .” He has to help, has to give her time to recover, and without hesitating charges at Dar’s unprotected back, slams the butt of his blaster rifle into the pit of his spine.

The Trandoshan snarls and whips around, clawing reflexively at Rex’s blaster, and Rex dances back, draws Dar away from Ahsoka. Dar has a far longer reach than him, so Rex lets Dar grab his blaster, uses it to hold away his claws and gets in  _ close _ , wraps a fist tight in his jacket and yanks him off-balance, further away from Ahsoka. He just needs Ahsoka up again, he can manage until she gets up  _ (if she gets up) _ .

Dar jerks his blaster  _ down _ , suddenly, so hard it twists his fingers and he has to let go, and then the hunter backs off, flings the useless rifle towards the younglings  _ (don’t look at them, look at me) _ , and swipes out with a clawed hand. Rex tries to get out of the way but he miscalculates; he doesn’t move far enough and Dar tears gashes in the arm of his blacks (and in his skin, he notes vaguely), closes those claws around his arm and Rex realizes he’s going to twist his arm behind him where he can’t use it so he pivots with the motion, wrenches free - and a scaled fist (like plastoid, those scales) drives into his stomach and he has no armor to keep the air from being driven heavy out of his lungs.

An arm wraps crushing and rough around his throat, and he’s dragged  _ hard _ back against the Trandoshan. He tries to kick back, flails with one arm while he scrabbles at Dar’s hand with the uninjured one - and claws dig into his left arm again, sharp, and he chokes.

Then everything is very still, for a moment, which Rex almost thinks is because he  _ can’t breathe _ , only he hears sniffing, a soft almost-purr of a snarl, then, coarse, “ _ Now _ I smell fear,” and Rex thinks he’s going to die and he doesn’t know where Ahsoka is but if this  _ thing  _ goes after her again-

And there’s a thud, and something like a grunt from Dar, and the Trandoshan’s grip on his throat slackens and Rex struggles free, still stumbles and falls because Dar’s claws are caught in his arm and he can’t get loose fast enough. But he does, and he rolls over onto his stomach and pushes himself onto his hands and knees, coughing and dragging in dusty but full breaths.

~~~

It takes Ahsoka  _ too long _ to get the rainbow-glowing lights to stop twirling through her vision, to push through the dizziness enough to  _ see; _ she can’t quite seem to make sense of the scene going on in front of her, everything  _ hurts _ and she can’t quite draw in enough air and her hand is a fist around something slick with sweat but the wrong shape and size to be her ‘saber--

Oh. Right. Vibroblade.

There’s… the Trandoshan, what was it’s--his--name? Dar? Something like that, Ahsoka thinks, fighting with, with  _ Rex, _ the kriff, and Ahsoka tries to push herself up but everything  _ aches, _ and all she can think is that she  _ has to get up, _ and--

“Ahsoka, are you okay?”

Kalifa crouches down next to her, puts a hand on her shoulder, and Ahsoka mumbles something gasping, wheezing, spits out blood where she must’ve bit her tongue. “Yeah,” she chokes, hoarse and rasping, “just gotta--catch my breath--”

Kalifa nods. “I’m going to go take cover by the tree--my ribs hurt, I think I cracked something,” and she winces.

“Go,” Ahsoka agrees, “I’ll--take care of it.”

The youngling darts off, an arm hugging her stomach, and Ahsoka manages to prop herself up on her left elbow, breathing slow and careful. Everything  _ hurts _ and she’s still dizzy, but she can see well enough to see that Rex is fighting Dar still, and--

And then the  _ kriffing _ Trandoshan shoves a balled fist heavy into Rex’s stomach, pulls  _ her Captain _ into a chokehold, and the world goes  _ red _ and bloody around the edges, and then she hears, a growling whisper,  _ “Now _ I smell fear,” and Ahsoka can’t  _ breathe _ but she can scream, silently, because she can’t quite get to her feet yet (can’t drag in the air she needs) but she  _ will not let him have her Rex. _

So  _ Force,  _ **_please,_ ** she begs, and then she adjusts her grip on the vibroblade and aims for Dar’s back (because it’s turned right at her, unprotected) and puts all her strength into her arm and  _ flings _ the blade.

And, thank the Force, the vibroblade buries itself into Dar’s back right between his shoulderblades, and the Trandoshan falls, and Rex rolls onto his hands and knees and coughs and chokes, and she forces herself upright even though the world spins because she’s  _ got _ to get to him, to her Rex. She staggers, sucks in a breath that burns and sears through her spine, crosses the space between them, says, “Rex--”

And then there’s a  _ roar _ from the speeder, echoing so, so loud through her montrals,  _ “You killed my son!” _ and “You will  _ pay _ for this, Jedi whelp!” and then the blaster cannon starts firing, and Ahsoka swears and is forced to leap backwards, taking cover behind a small boulder. 

Rex looks up at her, eyes wide, and she says, quickly, “Take the vibroblade and get the boys back safe. Kalifa and I will meet you there.”

He shakes his head, though he does pull the vibroblade free from Dar’s back. “Sir, he’s after  _ you, _ you need someone to watch your back--”

The blaster cannon’s fire sparks off the rock, and Ahsoka flips carefully up and backpedals into the lower branches, clinging tight. “That’s an  _ order, _ Rex!”

He shakes his head again, hard, calls out, “‘Soka,  _ wait--” _

She cuts him off before he can finish (and the nickname feels like a punch to the gut, rips the air out of her lungs again, because she’s always loved the way  _ ‘Soka _ sounds when he says it), snarls out, “Captain,  _ go!” _

And then she doesn’t look to see, because she  _ knows _ he won’t, can’t, disobey orders (especially not  _ her _ orders), and she jerks a hand at Kalifa, who’s already halfway up the tree, and flips herself through the branches at high speed. Calls out to the Force,  _ please keep them safe, keep them hidden, they’re not important, please, _ feels it hum assent, and then she’s flipping out onto the dust-dry ground at the top of the ravine.

There’s a speeder right behind her, blasterfire hot on her heels, and Ahsoka  _ runs, _ sprints for the trees right behind Kalifa, in the opposite direction of their hollow, because they have to get the hunters  _ away, _ away, away. Keep Rex and Jinx and O-mer safe. Her side is burning and her vision swimming and her ankle aches, but she flings herself into the trees anyway, starts leaping from branch to branch and squeezing through the tightest spaces possible, trying to outrun the speeder that always seems to be just behind her. 

Kalifa can’t keep up the pace.

The youngling is trying, gamely, but she’s choking and panting and making little whimpering sounds of  _ pain, _ and so finally Ahsoka calls back over her shoulder, in a rare moment where they’ve gained some space, “Get back home, Kalifa, I’ll lead them away and then lose them.”

“I can’t leave you alone, Ahsoka,” Kalifa gasps out, but Ahsoka shakes her head

“You’re injured, and Jinx and O-mer are going to be  _ terrified _ without you there to protect them,” she says, gentle but insistent. “I can handle myself.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” and she pauses, to leap onto another branch, and then she turns and smiles back at the younger girl. “If I’m not back by full dark--”

“You  _ will be,” _ Kalifa says, fierce.

“If I’m not,” Ahsoka repeats, “tell Rex--tell him I’m sorry.” And before the other girl can answer, she turns and bounds away again, because the blasterfire is getting close and she needs to  _ move. _ There are other things she wishes she could say, to Rex; but  _ friends _ she reminds herself, again, and besides, they aren’t things you say through an intermediary.

She can only hope her apology is enough.


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so here, have some more angst, with a lil bit of kinda-fluff, and then more angst! next up we'll have another shorter interlude, to keep you all posted on what's going on with the 501st and Anakin and all those guys, and then back to the action.
> 
> for ak: please don't implode. please. lol.

Rex is still hoarse and choking and in pain when their mad sprint gets them free of the ravine, through the trees, back to the shelter of their hollow, and he doesn’t even need help getting across the gap and into the hollow. He scrambles far back in the hollow with O-mer and Jinx, automatically gets between them and the entrance of the hollow, and then he staggers and sinks to his knees, heaving for breath, yanking up the arm of his blacks to look at his injuries so he doesn’t-

_That’s an order, Rex!_

He’d almost stayed, he’d almost ignored her orders, because this isn’t normal and she needs him and if he’s not watching her back and anything happens - but she said _Captain, go_ , and how was he supposed to argue?

His throat burns and the gashes on his arm are not deep, but they are long and bleeding, and he takes the vibroblade (the blade wet with the Trandoshan’s blood and the hilt damp with sweat) and slices free the left sleeve of his blacks, peels it off his arm and away from the cuts. “Are either of you hurt?” he says, the words scratching and coming out whispery. He thinks his throat isn’t too damaged, but it _hurts_.

“No,” Jinx says, heaving for breath still, staring out over the trees. “Were they coming?”

“Yeah.” Rex cuts the fabric of the sleeve into a long strip, wipes the bloody dagger clean on his pants. “Just taking a different way, they’ll meet us.”

That doesn’t reassure either of the boys any more than it reassures him, and he grits his teeth and grabs a water gourd to quickly, roughly clean out the scratches on his arm and then wrap them up with what’s left of his sleeve. Good enough, for something this minor. Then he takes a long drink of the water, and it soothes his throat, makes it easier to think and talk.

He should sit and rest, but time goes too slow that way, and Jinx and O-mer’s expressions have him anxious, so he shoves himself upright, curls his fist around Ahsoka’s vibroblade so he doesn’t clutch at his forearm again. He paces from the ashes of the fire to nearly the entrance of the hollow and back, over and over and over, although he’s tired and he’s shaky and he should stop.

He steps next to the ashes, pivots, and Kalifa lands, stumbles more like, inside their shelter, with a soft whimper, curling her arms around herself. Rex hurries up to her, steadies her, looks out toward where Ahsoka should be coming from, she’s probably hurt too, he’ll need to help.

Kalifa pushes his hand off her shoulder and he takes a step back, and she stares at him a moment before saying, weakly, “She said she was going to lead them away.”

Rex looks from her to back out at the trees, struggles to process for a second. Part of him is shrieking _you let her?_ but it wouldn’t have been Kalifa’s choice anyway. “Okay,” he says, resumes pacing, drawing himself in tight and controlled. He pauses to stab the vibroblade into the floor next to the baskets of food and then keeps going, wraps his hand around his right arm because it’s better than not, that way. Marginally reassuring.

She has to come back _soon_.

~~~

Ahsoka runs.

She has no idea how long she flips and spins and twists through the trees, always going _away,_ away from the hollow where _safety_ is, Garnac’s speeder never far enough behind that she can stop to _breathe;_ she clings to the Force and its speed and strength and endurance and keeps going. Always forward, always _away._

Eventually, she gets high enough in the trees for a bit to see it’s late afternoon, the sun starting a slow decline down to the horizon, and she swallows hard and drops back down lower, where the cover is thicker and it’s harder for the speeders to maneuver, because she doesn’t have too much longer before Kalifa delivers her message and she wants to make it _back_ in time. (She’s shaking and exhausted and she doesn’t know how long she can push herself to keep going, on a sprained ankle and the Force and desperation.)

At some point, she drops to the ground, runs beneath some looped roots and twisted wood that effectively blocks the speeder from getting through, and after narrowly avoiding another round of blasterfire, she hears loud swearing and then Garnac himself jumps off the speeder and starts chasing her. That’s an advantage.

She thinks.

She doesn’t really know. Is she faster than him?

The answer to that is _yes,_ at least at full speed, sprinting across narrow branches almost too thin to hold her weight, ones that will crack and send Garnac tumbling to the ground if he tries to cross them, and for a while she thinks, _maybe,_ maybe she can do this, maybe she can outlast him and lose him and make it back, maybe maybe maybe--

Blasterfire, in front of her.

Ahsoka freezes in place, realizes too late where the bolts hit--the weak point on the narrow branch--and then the wood is _snapping_ and she doesn’t even have time to _jump_ before it’s falling away from underneath her feet. She catches herself with one hand on what’s left of the branch, struggles to pull herself back up (but she’s shaking and she’s so _tired_ and she can’t breathe, can’t think, sweat stings her eyes and her ankle throbs and, and, and). Manages to get her other hand up onto the branch as well, and then it’s just hanging there for a moment, trying to orient herself, trying to find where her attacker is, where the _threat_ is.

 _Pressure,_ like durasteel claws, clamps around her uninjured ankle and _pulls._

Garnac is standing on the branch below her, reaching up with his too-damn-long arms, claws digging _through_ the leather, and he’s pulling and her shoulders _scream_ and instinct, instinct takes over and she wriggles her foot free of her boot, thinks _help me, Force,_ and flips herself up.

Barely manages to land on the branch that’s thicker, more stable, just above her head, the one she was aiming for originally, and then she begs the Force to hide her scent again (and it does, almost _eagerly)_ and she’s running again, running, even though the bark is rough on her bare foot and she’s unbalanced, now, uneven, and she runs and runs and runs until she feels like her heart is going to _burst,_ until even with the Force behind her she can’t keep going any longer.

So she stumbles to a stop, leans heavy and hard against the smooth upward curve of a branch, _listens;_ the forest is silent around her, and she blinks dizzily, realizes, dimly, that dusk has fallen. There’s no speeders, nothing.

And she’s far, far away from the hollow.

She’ll never make it back before nightfall.

But she _has_ to try, and running is too much--her muscles feel limp, loose, like wet towels, and so she grits her teeth and locks the Force in _tight,_ lets it burn through her, and she’s still panting so hard she can’t really get any oxygen, but she forces herself _forward_ anyway, in the general direction of the hollow, of safety, of _Rex._

She walks for hours, she thinks; her progress is stumbling and slow, and even her balance is compromised. Her head _aches_ (too much Force) and there’s bruises flowering darkly on her back and her ankle is pounding dully to her too-rapid heartbeat, and she has to take breaks sometimes, lean against a tree trunk or a branch or something, because she’s so so _tired._

 _Force,_ she’s tired.

The sky is clear and black and the stars are glimmering like jewels by the time she makes it to the final branch leading up to the hollow; she clings to the Force and claws her way up, step by slow, leaden step, has to grit her teeth to muster up the energy to make the jump. It’s all flashes of color: the fire, warm and bright; the younglings against the back wall; Rex (oh, stars, Rex) pacing tight and contained. “I,” Ahsoka rasps out, hoarse and gasping, still, “have a headache.” A pause. “And I lost my boot.”

Before she’s even finished speaking Rex is there, tugging her _tight_ against him, and she lets out a huff of sound and slumps into his arms, against his chest, into safety and security and _warmth._

She can _breathe._

~~~

It's dark outside, and Ahsoka isn't back. Rex’s pacing takes him in a wide circle now, past the water gourds, past the three younglings huddled by the fire they've made now that the hunt is gone, circling back and forth like a caged loth-wolf because he can't be still. Everything is hardened into narrow, hard points: Ahsoka is not back. She's out there alone. He can't help. He has to help. The younglings need him. She ordered him back. So he has no choice but to pace, up and down, every muscle tense, jaw clenched.

Kalifa tries, once, to tell him to sit down and eat something. He should listen, because he's aware she doesn't talk to him easily, but he just keeps striding back and forth, waves her away with a short, sharp hand gesture. It's not until it's completely dark outside and the breeze has turned chilly that Kalifa gets up, tries to talk to him again, jolts him out of a train of thought and almost makes him let go of his wrist. “Rex,” she says, and Rex stops pacing because he thinks she looks anxious, is staying back from him, and right. Kids. He nods, all the acknowledgment he's willing to give. “It's after full dark,” she says, carefully. “Ahsoka said, if she wasn't back by full dark-” Rex twists his fingers hard over his wrist, because he knows what that means, means he has to hear goodbyes when Ahsoka isn't even _gone_ , “-that I was supposed to tell you she's- she's sorry.”

Rex shakes his head. “Thanks, Kalifa,” and goes back to pacing. If she isn't back soon he's going to have to go look for her; he can hardly go back to his General and tell him he lost his padawan. And he wants her back here, safe, not out alone in the dark.

“If she isn't back yet-” Jinx starts, hesitant, and Rex grits his teeth, just stops himself from whipping around and telling the boy to shut up.

“Then I may have to go find her,” he interrupts, steady, tight. “You all should stay here, and I can go-”

“She's not-” O-mer smacks Jinx in the arm and Rex clenches both fists.

“I'm waiting ten more standard minutes and then I'm going,” he says.

The younglings are all quiet, but he doesn't look at them because he thinks he knows how they'll be looking at him. But his Commander has gotten out of far worse messes than a bunch of _chakaar’la_ hunters, so he's not being naive. He just knows she's fine, and she'll be back, or he'll find her.

 _She doesn't have her lightsabers_ , he thinks, unwelcome. _She doesn't even have a vibroblade anymore_.

Well, she has the Force, and _some_ hand-to-hand (not enough), and he's sure she can manage. Can't she? He grips his aching arm and measures out his steps.

And Ahsoka lands, a little ungainly but upright, at the entrance of the hollow, blinking in the firelight. She's panting, heavy, and she gestures vaguely at her feet (one of which is bare) and pronounces, “I have a headache. And I lost my boot.”

Rex is moving before he thinks, lets go of his wrist so he can wrap both arms tight around Ahsoka and pull her in safe and here and _alive_ against his chest. “You kriffing-” He stops himself, buries his face in the V between her montrals. “All due respect, Ahsoka, but who gives a kriff about your boot.”

She sighs, grumbles a little. “I do,” and sags against him a little more, tucks both arms tight around his waist. “You lose one of _your_ favorite leather boots and see how _you_ feel.”

Rex has never owned leather boots in his life. But that's neither here nor there.

“I was a little more concerned about losing you, _Commander_ ,” he says, almost a reprimand. Not quite. “The _kriff_ were you thinking, going off on your own?” _That_ is a reprimand. And a deserved one. _Kriff_.

And why would she leave him a message like that, he wants to ask. _I'm sorry_ , because that's supposed to help if she's _gone_ \- but never mind.

~~~

“They were after me,” Ahsoka rasps wearily, closing her eyes and tucking her head tighter against his chest. “Not you. Said I’d get you back to your men, didn’t I?”

“It’s not getting _me_ back I’m worried about, I know you’ve got that handled,” Rex says quietly, tugging her closer, “but you _gotta_ let me watch your six, make sure we get you back to General Skywalker.”

“Okay,” she says, quietly, soft, swallows hard. She wants to _let him,_ but he--it’s more important that he makes it out. She _promised._ “Can we--sit down, Rexter? My ankle hurts.”

“Yeah,” he says, and she leans on him and limps over to the side, sitting down and leaning heaving into his side.

There’s scratches on his left arm, bandaged by a torn-off sleeve of his blacks, and when she pushes the sleeve up on his right arm his forearm is red and bruised. She frowns at him, tiredly, says, “Rex, you’re hurting yourself.” And if she were less _exhausted,_ she’d try to heal him, because she can heal bruises and scrapes and chafes easy enough, but just the _thought_ of reaching for the Force right now is… it sends pain stabbing through her temples, and she closes her eyes and leans harder into him, grits her teeth.

“I don’t mean to,” he says quietly, and she traces a finger light over the abused skin, so so careful.

“I know.” And she does, but it still _worries_ her that he does it, because she doesn’t _want_ him to get hurt, doesn’t _want_ him to hurt himself, even on accident.

“Where are you hurt?”

She half-shrugs a shoulder, too tired to really move more than that. “Nothing much,” and her voice is a hoarse, exhausted whisper. “Bruises where he threw me into the wall, tired, I think I might’ve overextended myself. Used too much of the Force, I mean. And my ankle hurts.”

She’ll be fine, really, it’s all superficial. Though overextension could be a problem, she’s not sure, depends on how much more she has to do. But she thinks she’ll be fine.

She’s karking _exhausted,_ though.

~~~

Rex frowns. None of those issues would be much of a problem anywhere else - not ideal, but not life-threatening. Here, it worries him. At least they have the night to sleep. He carefully looks Ahsoka over again, brushes his fingers carefully over the blaster burn and scratches on her headtails. “These gonna be okay?” He shifts to look at her back, too, humming concernedly. A lot of scratches, mostly not bad ones.

She sighs, tilts her head against his hand, and mumbles, “Yeah.” She looks exhausted, more than he feels, and he skims his hand down to her back to wipe some grit and dust away from a few of the scratches.

“We should sleep,” he says, to all of them, voice scraping painfully in his throat. He deliberately does not think about _tomorrow_. Ahsoka nods, and he can feel her hesitating, then she pulls away from his side and lays down by the fire.

Rex can't be alone tonight, though, and he needs to be sure she's _safe_ , so he goes after her, lays down behind her and curls around her back, arms sliding around her waist. He doesn't rest his forehead against her back headtail, although he wants to, just stays _close_ and breathes in the smell of her, earthy and dusty and a little like rain.

~~~

Ahsoka doesn’t expect Rex to come lay down so _close._

She hadn’t wanted to pull away from him, from _safety_ and warmth, but _friends,_ she has to remind herself, and he doesn’t want to be close, and--and all the excuses fall flat but she knows he’d rather she didn’t sleep _here_ so she scoots closer to the fire and curls up and tries not to feel _alone._

Except then there’s sound, and a presence at her back, and he slips his arms around her and holds her tight and it’s warm enough, comforting enough, that she almost makes a soft sound of gratitude. But she restrains herself, sighs light and quiet instead, shivers and nestles smaller into his arms. He breathes slow and steady and if she tilts her head back she can feel his heartbeat soothing and regular against her headtail, and Ahsoka wishes she could just--stay here, forever.

And she’s so _tired,_ but at first she can’t fall asleep; there’s a sense-memory of claws tight on her ankle, too much a reminder of a different set of claws on her wrist, her elbow, and she whispers, “Rex?”

“Right here, Ahsoka,” he says softly, and she nods.

“The Son had claws too,” and she squeezes her eyes tight and shivers a little, doesn’t want to remember, but she can’t quite _help_ it. _You are mine now,_ it’d said, he’d said, all full of gleeful threat, and, and. No.

Rex soothes a hand down her shoulder and upper arm, careful, warm, rubbing away the gooseflesh, and says, “He’s gone now, remember?”

Yes, she remembers. “Dar choked you,” she tells him. “I thought--it scared me.”

“Yeah, me too,” he says, snorts a little. “But I’m fine.” His hand comes down to tangle with her own, and he squeezes, reassuring. “See? I’m right here.”

She smiles, lets out a long, slow breath, hums a bit, brings his hand up to her cheek. “Good,” and it’s barely a breath, soft. “You’re mine, he doesn’t get to touch you.” And the fact that he’s _here,_ so close, so present, is _enough;_ and so she sighs soft again, lets herself finally slip into sleep.

~~~

Rex leaves his hand where Ahsoka placed it, against her cheek, although maybe he shouldn't. He just feels safer with her close, with her where he knows she isn't _gone_ , where he- where apparently he's _hers_ , so she'll protect him. And maybe he shouldn't let them be this close, let her talk that way, but right now he thinks it’s okay to let it go. She’s asleep already, almost completely relaxed, which he thinks is because she’s exhausted (maybe because he’s here).

He almost doesn’t care whether he _should_ let her be here now or not, because it’s too much of a relief that she isn’t gone, that she’s here in his arms, almost- he chuckles a little to himself because she’s _snoring_. He just revels in it a moment, warmth and stillness and knowing, somehow, that nothing is going to hurt them - not for the night, anyway.

And it’s quiet, and she’s snoring a little (which is _very cute_ ), and he thinks the younglings are all trying to sleep too. So he traces his fingertips light over her cheekbone, up over the line of her brow (still finds it strange that she has no proper eyebrows), and then, hesitating to be sure she’s still asleep, sweeps his fingers gentle across her montrals and down her headtail, the smooth coolness of the skin unfamiliar against his palm. It doesn’t feel _human_ , which makes sense, it’s just curious. She shifts in her sleep, tilts her head back into his hand, and he goes very still before soothing his hand up and down her headtail and closing his eyes so he can go to sleep himself.

He loves her. He wishes he could have her.

* * *

Ahsoka wakes up to screams.

Faint and soft and trailing off into inaudibility, far enough away she doubts the others can hear, but screams nonetheless, and something in her _twists._

_They have these things, we don’t know what they are. It’s all part of the game. They make--sounds, like screams. You can’t chase them, when they start. If someone screams. You don’t know if it’s--real or not._

_Once, a Padawan made it for almost a week. Then he went mad. It was the screams that did it._

The screams.

She doesn’t want to _move,_ even though she can hear the haunting noises, not at first, because Rex is still _here,_ curled around her, and he has one hand curled soft around her headtail and the other tucked beneath her cheek, and she doesn’t want to tear herself away, doesn’t _want to,_ doesn’t want to. Because he is warm and safe and she wants him (loves him).

But there are--screams, maybe they aren’t people, but maybe they _are,_ and she should, she needs to get up, get the others up, so they can go see. Maybe it’s a trap, but maybe it isn’t, and maybe it’s a chance to set their _own_ trap.

Rex’s arms are still warm and _safe,_ though, and he’s so _close,_ and for a moment she just closes her eyes, pretends she’s still asleep, lets his presence comfort her. She’s so _tired_ and she’s missed him so _much_ (and he’d come willingly, last night, curled himself around her like he never wanted to let go), and surely she can--have this? For just a minute, that’s all, just one little blip of selfishness. He’s asleep, no one will _know._

She can still hear the screams, though.

So with a long sigh, she opens her eyes, pushes herself up onto her elbow (and _kriff,_ she’s sore), says hoarsely, “Rex, wake up.”

Rex makes a soft noise, grumbles, curls around her a bit more, and she can’t help a fond smile, twisting to look down on him. She pokes his side with one finger. “Rex, come _on.”_

“I’m awake,” he mutters, raspy, “stop poking me.”

She does, though she sighs, and pulls back a bit. “Rex, I can hear screaming.”

 _That_ wakes him up, and he jerks to a sitting position, stares at her for a minute, processing, and then swears. “We should get them up, then.”

“Yeah.” Ahsoka goes to push herself to her feet and all her muscles _tighten_ at once, protesting, and she swears softly. _“Ow,_ bruises, right.” Walls. She got thrown into a wall. Better remember that.

“You alright?”

“Just sore,” she says, but she takes the offered hand anyway, gets slowly to her feet and tries to stretch some of the kinks out of her muscles. It takes a moment, but then she crosses the hollow, puts a hand on Kalifa’s shoulder--the younglings are all curled up in a pile, like loth-kittens, and Kalifa happens to be the nearest one--and gently shakes the girl awake. “Hey, Kalifa. We need to get up.”

Kalifa whimpers a little, says, “Ahsoka, my ribs hurt.” She pushes herself to sit up anyway, clambering off Jinx and O-mer, and, and the boys wince and sit up too, grumbling and exhausted.

Today is going to be a hard day.

~~~

Jinx and O-mer push to their feet while Ahsoka feels at Kalifa’s ribs, and Rex nods at both boys. He thinks they’re still trying to figure him out, although O-mer smiles a little and inclines his head in return, so maybe they’re starting to figure him out a little. What they’re deciding, he’s not sure.

And then he hears it, so faint he almost isn’t sure: a scream, torn and raw and so distant, and he twists to see Ahsoka flinch.

“They’ll be coming for us today, more than before,” he says, gruff. His throat still doesn’t feel right.

“Yes,” Kalifa says sharply, bitter, “Because you killed the _chief’s son_.”

“What option did we have?” Ahsoka answers.

Kalifa snorts. “I know. But still. You fought back, and these are the consequences.” She grabs Ahsoka’s shoulder and leverages herself to her feet with a sharp intake of breath and a bitten-back whimper. Rex thinks this must have happened before, and that’s not right.

She’s right, in a way. They did what they had to do, but that leaves them with this.

“We have to go, then, and keep moving,” Rex says.

“We have to help them,” Ahsoka adds, and he knows what she means. Whoever or whatever is screaming. Except the younglings said-

“They’re not real. The screams. And if they are, it’s still just a trap.” Jinx crosses his arms, and O-mer looks down (an agreement, if a softer one).

“If it’s a trap, good,” Ahsoka says, fiercely. Rex doesn’t find himself agreeing with that, oddly enough. “Time to set our own traps for them.”

He doesn’t see how they’ll do that, but he doesn’t contradict her. The younglings need to trust her and her judgement like he does, so that means going with the plan. If he needs to talk to her, he will.

“We can do that on the move,” he says, gets nods from the younglings and his Commander.

“Right.” Ahsoka leads the way out of the tree this time, and although he doesn’t want to, Rex lets her set their course _toward_ the screams.

He can’t hear the hunt today.

That’s not reassuring. Yesterday was apparently a show, a special game for the one called Dar, for the chief’s son, so caution wasn’t important.

Today, the hunters want them _dead_ , he thinks, and they want to be _sure_ of it.

So the five of them are quiet too, are slow and careful, and Rex lets his Jedi lead the way, her vibroblade back in her fist, careful on her bad ankle and bare foot, following the eerie, _prolonged_ sound of someone screaming and crying.

~~~

For a while, they run down the trees, towards the sounds, and Ahsoka’s careful but not _slow,_ moving with confidence. As long as she remembers to compensate for only having one boot, and she’s careful not to land on sharp things with her bare foot, and she ignores the twinging of her bad ankle, everything’s _fine;_ her sore muscles and bruised back _ache,_ and of course the scratches and grazes sting, but she can do this.

She _has_ to.

Occasionally, they hear a speeder, the sounds of the Trandoshans communicating back and forth, but there’s no sign of any hunters as they approach the area the screams are coming from. They’ve been traveling along a stream, taking periodic stops to drink and mask their scent, best as they can, though Ahsoka keeps hiding them the best she can with the Force.

The Force feels _tense,_ the closer they get to the sounds, and yet it’s all Ahsoka can do to keep from rushing in when they reach a small clearing in the trees--except, as it turns out, rushing in is unneeded.

Because there’s a sentient on the ground, sure, but they’re already dead, and there’s not a single sign of a Trandoshan anywhere to be found.

And then the screams cut out.

_Kriff._

“See?” Jinx says, harshly. “They aren’t real.”

And then the screaming starts up again, this one a shriek of pure _terror_ that peters off into silence, only for raw shouts of pain to start up seconds later.

“That one might be a _trap,”_ O-mer says, firmly, “we can’t--”

Ahsoka’s already jumping back into the tree, shaking her head. “Are you a Jedi or not, O-mer? We’re called to be _compassionate,_ that doesn’t mean sitting back and letting other people get hurt when we can _help them.”_

O-mer just _stares,_ for a moment, and then he nods, slowly. “You’re right,” he says, quietly, looks at Jinx and Kalifa. “We have to go. Even if it _is_ a trap.”

Kalifa’s the first one to nod, and she jumps up into the tree, though she winces when she lands; Jinx looks like he’s swallowed something sour, but he follows. Even if he doesn’t really seem to _believe_ it. “Fine,” he spits out, “but you’re going to get yourself killed.”

Ahsoka just shakes her head and starts off again, as Rex hauls himself up into the tree behind them. These sounds aren’t as far off, though it’s hard to tell the distance from the way they’re rising and falling in a crescendo of sick _horror;_ she can tell the general direction, though, and so she makes for them with all the speed she can muster.

They’ve _got_ to get there, yes, but not so fast that they don’t have time to _plan;_ if this _is_ a trap, they need to have a plan in place, first. She doesn’t think this Garnac, the _chief,_ would be chief if he wasn’t kriffing _good_ at hunting, so… so plans. She signals a halt for a minute to discuss, says, “We need a plan.”

~~~

Rex nods. “Right,” he says, keeping his voice low. He thinks Ahsoka has a better idea of where they’re going than him; her hearing is better. Still, he has to work hard to tune it out when another sobbing litany of words in a language that isn’t Basic knifes through the air.

“Let’s assume it’s a real person,” Kalifa says, shortly. “What then, Ahsoka?”

“And if we assume they’re trying to lure us in,” Rex adds.

Ahsoka looks in the direction of the screaming again, fidgets for a second. “Just a few of us go in, when we know what it is. We can spring the trap, then the rest of you are there to pull us out if it goes south.”

 _When_ . Rex doesn’t like that plan, particularly the part where _Ahsoka_ is going in to spring the trap. Even if she is a _Jedi_ and perfectly capable of handling herself. But he can’t think of anything else, anything better, not going in blind like this, so he sighs and nods. “Good enough. You and O-mer can go in, and we’ll stand by to get you out.” For all that Jinx and Kalifa don’t seem to trust him, he thinks they’ll be good, in a pinch, and he trusts them to fight for Ahsoka and O-mer if it comes to it.

Ahsoka is back on the move again immediately, and Rex pushes himself to stay right at her shoulder, through the branches, following the rise and fall of sound that is _pain_ until suddenly Ahsoka whips up a fist, stops them, and she hardly needed to because the sobbing is right below them now.

When Rex looks down through the leaves, he can see a thin Mon Cala girl scrambling backwards away from one of five Trandoshans, cut and bruised and bleeding and heaving for breath. She’s babbling, tries to push herself to her feet, and the hunter grabs her _casually_ by the leg and drags her back, claws driving deep into her leg, and the girl screams.

Ahsoka is almost _bleeding_ tension and fury. “That one has a vibroblade,” she says, which is good, Rex thinks, and follows her eyes. “A long one.”

And she’s right, it’s a real, proper, almost-saber-length blade, and Rex smiles slowly (and the girl shrieks again). Ahsoka presses the dagger into his palm with a fierce, all-teeth smile. “I don’t need that,” she tells him, then she quickly gestures to O-mer (who, like his friends, is gaping), and drops out of the tree.

Rex tightens his fist around the vibroblade and _grins_ . Trap or no trap, if she can get that vibroblade, she can _fight_ and she can _win_.

~~~

Ahsoka hits the ground at a dead sprint, laser-sharp focus on the vibroblade tucked in the Trandoshan hunter’s belt, pulling on the Force. It’s just like fighting battle droids, she tells herself, watching the other hunters out of the corner of her eye--

They fire, almost in sync, shouting a warning, and she flips high into the air, drops, tucks and rolls _between_ her target’s legs (he still hasn’t even turned around), vaults to her feet, and leaps back and kicks him in the chest.

As he goes flying, she snaps her right hand out and _reaches,_ pulling the vibroblade from his belt into her right hand (ducks and dodges another volley of blasterfire), and then she twirls the blade, finding the balance (a bit different from a lightsaber, but close enough), and she _smirks_ at the other Trandoshans. There’s a moment where they all stop firing, just staring, and then she sees one start to change his aim from _her_ to the girl on the ground, and that won’t do at all.

Ahsoka _snarls,_ pushes off the balls of her feet (and another Trandoshan has a midlength vibroblade, only a little shorter than her shoto, and she casually summons it from his belt as she passes) and lands in front, kicks the blaster out of his hands, and summarily slices him in thirds. Spins, says, low, “You shouldn’t let a Jedi get vibroblades,” and shifts her weight onto her right foot, which is behind her, holds the shoto-length blade out in front of her and the longer one back. “Just like ‘saber forms,” and she smiles, all shark-sharp teeth, meets their eyes one at a time. “You should run away now.”

They don’t, the idiots.

Of course they don’t.

Good. She would’ve been _disappointed_ if they had.

The three remaining Trandoshans try firing again, and it’s so _easy,_ juvenile, to dodge the bolts, even though she can’t deflect with vibroblades--they seem to realize that _blasterfire_ isn’t going to work and there’s a pause, and then the two on the outside sling their blasters over their shoulders and rush her, while the third keeps firing.

It’s an _attempt,_ she has to admit.

But a pathetic one.

Ahsoka ducks the blasterfire, _shoves_ both hands forwards, sending the shooter flying into a tree hard enough something _snaps,_ and then she rocks back, ducks underneath her two assailants’ reaching arms (and they get tangled up in each other, and she smirks). Lashes out with one vibroblade, cuts deep into one Trandoshan’s gut, casual, easy, turns to face the other. Lets her smirk widen, and twirls the shoto blade. “Thanks for the vibroblade,” she says, easy, and she _winks._

The hunter has just enough time to look _terrified_ before she slices his head off.

The remaining two Trandoshans are injured--the one with the stab wound is dying, she thinks, so she ignores him, instead paces slow and smooth across the clearing to the other, the one she’d thrown into the tree, frowns down at him. He looks like he’s still breathing, so she shrugs one shoulder, plunges her new vibroblade into his chest, pulls it out.

And then she says, “It’s clear, you guys can come down now,” and kneels down to wipe her new blades off on the grass.

~~~

Rex takes one last look around for an ambush before swinging down to land next to his Jedi, smirking at her. “Not bad, Commander.”

“Eh, a bit sloppy.” Ahsoka nudges one of the Trandoshans with her booted foot, carelessly. “Still getting used to the balance of these things.” Kalifa is helping the Mon Cala girl to her feet, and Rex looks at her and knows she won’t be able to run.

“It didn’t look sloppy to me, _aden’tra_. You’re being smug.”

Ahsoka gives him a grin in that smirking way that always makes him want to kiss her, and he turns to the younglings and the awed, injured girl that Kalifa’s supporting. “You need to get away from here,” he says. He wants to take her with them, but he’d have to carry her, and he can’t. His balance isn’t that good and it would slow them down too much, but if the girl is far away from them, she should be alright.

For now.

 _Kriff_.

She nods, and Kalifa says something quietly to her, pointing, while Rex turns back to Ahsoka. “So far so good. We should move though.”

“I know.” Ahsoka twirls one of her blades with a self-satisfied smile, then turns and jumps up into another tree. Rex glances over at the younglings, sees the Mon Cala child vanishing into the bushes and O-mer looking decidedly shocked.

“She’s even more impressive with her sabers,” he informs them, for the pure enjoyment of seeing O-mer gape wider and Jinx’s eyes bug out a little.

Then he hefts himself up after Ahsoka ( _gods_ he’s getting sick of climbing), holding the dagger in one hand, feeling more confident than he’s felt since discovering the blaster rifle wouldn’t work. Ahsoka has two _vibroblades_.

That tips the scales in their favor, at least a little.

~~~

Ahsoka can’t wipe the smug smirk off her face as she flips lightly through the trees, adrenaline singing a dangerous song in her blood, the thrill of the hunt, of _victory,_ lending a new lightness to her steps that’s been missing. She has _vibroblades._ Long ones, good ones, and Trandoshans don’t seem to know how to _handle that._

The odds, now, just might be in their favor.

Of course, not thirty seconds after that there’s the whine of a speeder, and a familiar roar, and blasterfire strafes the tree near them--Ahsoka _swears_ under her breath, tightens her hands around her vibroblades and takes off, tearing through the trees as fast as she can, even though her bare foot _hurts_ when she does that. Her muscles ache, complaining, but she shoves all that to the side--it doesn’t _matter,_ they just have to _move,_ get somewhere they can fight back or lose their pursuit or _something._

She spares a moment of thought, a hope really, that the Mon Cala girl got away, and then she pours all her effort into feeling the Force, judging the best path through the trees, trying to lead the younglings (and Rex) _away,_ somewhere where they can make a stand. She has weapons now, they aren’t helpless.

“Down!” Ahsoka calls back over her shoulder, abruptly drops five meters to the ground and rolls, leaps fluidly to her feet and takes off again--the younglings aren’t _quite_ so smooth, and neither is Rex (he goes down on one knee, pushes himself back up again), but they all make it. There’s a wide clearing just ahead, a space they have to sprint through, but beyond it is a tunnel of tightly woven tree roots and branches and underbrush, and the speeder won’t be able to get through.

They just have to make it to the other side.

If they run fast enough, stay on their feet, they can do it. They can make it.

Ahsoka slows to let Kalifa and Jinx ahead of her, glancing back over her shoulder to mark the speeder’s position, Garnac manning the blaster cannon and bellowing threats; she hurdles a fallen branch out of instinct, notes Rex doing the same thing, hesitates in the mouth of the tunnel, shoving her vibroblades into her belt (right now, they’re no use).

And she’s turning to make sure everyone’s through, that’s how she sees it happening before it does, almost in slow motion, every second stretched out into a lifetime: little O-mer, with his bright smile, is too slow and he doesn’t notice the branch in time. His toe catches on it, sends him tumbling, sprawling out on the grass. The blasterfire is getting closer.

Ahsoka goes to sprint out towards him, but there’s an arm tight around the front of her shoulders, a hand on her far hip, pulling her back, and _no no no,_ all she can see for a moment is a vision of _younglings_ being gunned down by blaster bolts and _no, not O-mer, please,_ and she _screams_ and tries to twist free of her assailant (it’s Rex, Rex, _clone),_ but he gets her half-over his shoulder and he’s _taking her away_ and all she can do is _watch_ as O-mer reaches out one desperate hand towards her before his body is riddled with blasterfire, and _no!_

_No._

She screams again, beats against Rex’s back with both fists, shouts, “Let me _go!”_ but there’s nothing, no response, and she lets out a strangled sob and _begs. “Please,_ let _go_ of me, I have to--let me _go,_ let me help, please, put me _down,”_ but there’s nothing at all, just stone beneath her fingers, and no no _no_ she can’t, won’t, tightness around her and she can’t _move,_ can’t break free, and she’s breathing too hard and the world is swirling and _execute order sixty-six_ and claws down her arm and _no, no, no._

~~~

Ahsoka is panting and struggling for breath in his arms, clawing at him through his blacks, and Rex _runs_ . Follows Kalifa through the tunnel of undergrowth - they still have to lose the Trandoshans when they get out, and they can't do that with Ahsoka still sobbing hard and choked ( _please, I need to get to him- I could help, please!_ ). So Rex grabs her head, presses her face against his shoulder so her voice is muffled in his blacks, and he thinks that makes it worse, but they _keep going_.

Kalifa gets them out of the tunnel, leads them in a twisting run away from there, even though they’re almost spotted by a speeder, and Rex can't keep his balance well enough when he's trying to keep Ahsoka _still_.

She gets weaker eventually, though, goes silent, and he stops holding her face against his shoulder and runs behind Kalifa (things he can't think about: Kalifa’s eyes full of tears, Jinx angry and choking, _Ahsoka_ ), feet too heavy on the ground, twisting and scrambling through undergrowth and stone, until Kalifa and Jinx suddenly cut sideways, across a brook (and Rex nearly falls, trying to follow, staggers through the water and fights to keep his balance), and scramble into a little cave in the rocks, Kalifa reaching out to grab Rex’s wrist and yank him in after.

The entrance is narrow, almost too much so, but then the space widens drastically so that Rex can stand and, panting, dreading, he pries his arms away from Ahsoka and lets her go. He half expects her to back away from him and go curl up and not speak to him, but instead she wraps her arms around his chest and buries her face in his shoulder. “I could've saved him,” she says, hoarse, and Rex shakes his head.

“You'd have died too.”

“This is your fault!” Jinx spits out, and Kalifa goes for his shoulder as Rex looks up, not sure if the youngling is talking to him or Ahsoka or both of them. “If you had listened to us in the first place this wouldn't have _happened_.”

“Jinx-” Kalifa tries, but the boy takes a harsh step towards them and Rex is reminded of some of his _vode_ after their first bad battle, after the first one where the orders are wrong, are kriffed, and it gets them killed and they don't know what to do or who to blame. Usually, they blame Rex, because they can't disparage the Jedi.

“If you'd left him behind like we _told_ you- He slowed us down and got us in trouble, we said this would happen and you killed _Garnac’s son_ and now O-mer’s dead and he wouldn't be if you'd just-”

“Jinx!” Kalifa says again, and she's crying but she grabs Jinx by the arm and pulls him a few steps back. Rex just puts his arms careful around Ahsoka, who flinches, and meets Jinx’s eyes.

Ahsoka backs away from him, suddenly, and wait, she shouldn't, Rex wants- But he lets her pull her arms from around him and step away, aim a soft, aching, “I'm _sorry_ ” at Jinx, and go to sit down against the stone wall of the cave, tugging her knees against her chest.

“You should be,” Jinx snarls, but he's looking at Rex, too, and Rex sighs and decides to deal with the kid later, because Ahsoka is shaking. And maybe she doesn't want him anywhere near her right now, but he walks over to her and crouches down next to her, careful.

“Can I sit here?” he asks, very quietly. She nods, so he eases himself carefully down next to her, and he's just debating whether to put his arm around her when she curls up against his side, eyes closed, and he sighs and squeezes her shoulder. “I'm sorry,” he says, softly. Not that he regrets it. He would not have her get herself killed ( _he wouldn't lose her_ ) trying to fix something that couldn't be helped or controlled. He'd rather have her here than no one at all, even if that means they lost- lost O-mer (just a child). But he's sorry nonetheless.

“It would've been worth it,” she whispers, splaying a shaky hand over his side. “To save him.”

“You'd both have been killed for nothing, ‘Soka,” Rex says, sighing and running his hand up and down her upper arm. Not worth it if it meant losing her. Not to him, whether that's right or wrong.

“But maybe I could have saved him,” she insists. Rex thinks she really couldn't have, not even his Jedi, but he doesn't know.

“And maybe you couldn't have. It wasn't- It wasn't a risk you could afford to take, Ahsoka. Not with people relying on you.”

She's very pained and sad and soft when she says, “He was _reaching_ for me, Rex.”

 _They do that_ , Rex wants to say. When you lose people. They try to hang on, every time, and you learn to pry their fingers loose and stop looking or they'll all drag you down to dust with them. “I know,” he says instead. “I'm sorry, Ahsoka.”

~~~

“I hate them,” Ahsoka whispers, swallowing, trying to breathe past the rasp of tears in her throat. “The Trandoshans. I--”

Her throat closes on the words, ones the Jedi would condemn her for saying. _I want to kill all of them._ Because _compassion,_ she’d told O-mer that just--an hour ago? Two? But Ahsoka is cold and sharp and angry, and she has lost someone, and there is no more compassion in her heart. Not for these _monsters_ who call themselves _sentient._

She wants them _dead,_ and she is just aware enough to know how _dangerous_ that is.

“I know,” Rex says, soothes a hand over her shoulder. “Me too. But we can’t focus on that.”

“We get out of here,” Ahsoka says, eyes still closed. “We find their base. And we make them _pay.”_

“Sounds good, Commander,” Rex says softly, and she leans into him more and tries to relearn how to breathe.

They relax for a little while, grieving and scared, and then Kalifa pushes herself to her feet with a bitten-off whimper of _pain_ and says, roughly, “We have to move again. If they find us here we’re trapped.”

It’s true, but Ahsoka hates that it is. Still, they _do_ need to move, so she stands slowly, grimacing a bit--her ankle hurts and her bare foot is sore--leans on the rock wall for balance. Rex stands too, puts a hand gentle on her shoulder, and she gratefully leans into the support as Jinx pushes himself up, still looking bitter and angry and cold.

And refusing to even _look_ at her and Rex.

Kriff it.

“Let’s go, then,” she says quietly, and Kalifa nods, starts for the entrance to the cave, Jinx close behind. Ahsoka wraps her hands tight around the hilts of her vibroblades, drawing strength from the familiarity of _durasteel,_ good and solid, beneath her palms.

Now they can fight back, and now they have a plan--well, the beginnings of a plan. (Find the base. Make them pay.)

It will be enough.

Ahsoka will _make_ it be enough.

~~~

Planning to find the base will have to wait, Rex sees that very quickly.

They have a few minutes of quiet running, when they leave their cave, a few minutes when they can hear the screaming and the shrieking of the Trandoshans, safely distant, but then there's a shift, and a call from one of the hunters that's fiercer, louder, closer.

And maybe they could stand and fight if it was just one speeder, but all the other sounds start getting closer too, and even Ahsoka with two vibroblades can't fight that, so it's running again.

They don't have time to climb into the trees because bolts from the blaster cannons start slamming into the rocks and thorns and dust around them, so they just have to _run_. Full-tilt, across dust and stone and scree and thorns, and sometimes Rex loses sight of Ahsoka in the rush, sometimes he's running alone for a moment until he whips around a bend or over an obstacle and they're all still there.

He tires too fast - it's not been minutes before every breath begins to burn and he thinks he has to _stop_ , but he can't, won't, so they keep going, like foxes flushed out of their dens, and his legs shake and the tight maneuvers begin to feel impossible, barely automatic, and he dives over a tangled mess of roots and for a moment hitting the ground is too much and he almost can't control it, he's lead and exhaustion, but he tucks into a roll, staggers to his feet, and it's onward again.

And he does that over and over and over and over, skids around stones and picks up his feet to get over tangles of undergrowth and he's barely focusing on anything but the movement of Ahsoka's headtails in front of him and dodging blaster bolts and at some point Kalifa says that they've gone too far, she's lost, she doesn't know where they are, but it's just _forward_ under the onslaught, shrieks and the roar of engines and blasters keeping them moving, and Rex is so laser-focused on _run and don't look back_ that he doesn't realize it's getting dark until he catches his foot _hard_ on a rock, nearly sprawls flat on his face except someone (Kalifa) grabs his shoulder and forces him upright and forward.

He knows it's only their agility that's keeping them ahead of the hunters, only the fact that they've been ducking and dodging and turning back on their tracks, but as it grows darker still, he doesn't want to anymore, he can't, they have to stand and fight or else fall and be lost, and he's choking and struggling for every breath but he will _follow his Commander_ , that's what he has to do, just run, keep her safe, he-

And then there's a shrill, awful cry from the Trandoshans and Rex’s heart could burst but still they run, run even though the sounds of the hunt are fading, run even though he twists and sees the Trandoshans are _leaving_ , and they don't stop until Kalifa does, at full dark, and, swaying, says “They're gone.”

Now that he's stopped, Rex's breaths are nothing but pain, and he's shaking, and black spots float dizzy in front of his eyes every time he blinks. He finds a huge, rotting fallen branch and sets his hand on it, lowers himself (shaking) to sit against it, closes his eyes and tips his head back and heaves for air, for it all to stop burning.

It's dark, it's night. The hunters are gone and Rex has no idea where they are.

He's not sure he'll ever be able to breathe again, can feel his heartbeat in his throat too, too fast.

He knows the others (Jedi though they may be) are barely any better off.

 _Gods_ , breathing. Just. _Gods_.

His head _aches_ , pounds; he's sweaty and dizzy and he thinks he wrenched his foot wrong and he can't _think_ . _Gods. Force._

~~~

When they _finally,_ finally manage to stop, the hunt having moved on for the day and full dark coming, they’re lost. Completely, utterly lost.

“Were you ever this far, yesterday?” Kalifa asks, her voice a gasping rasp in her throat.

Ahsoka shakes her head, can’t get enough air to answer, at first. “I don’t--know,” she chokes out, bending over and putting her hands on her knees, trying just to _breathe._ She’s _exhausted_ and shaking and everything _aches,_ muscles sore and limp and her sprained ankle hot and stabbing and her bare foot cut and bruised. “I followed--your Force-signatures, back to the hollow.”

“Kriff,” Kalifa says, soft, seems small and lost and cold all of a sudden, and Ahsoka forces herself to straighten, to limp over and put an arm around the younger girl.

“We’ll figure it out,” she promises weakly, and Kalifa shudders.

“You can’t just _not fight,”_ Jinx snaps out, though his voice is less whip-like than earlier, more _broken._ “If you hadn’t _fought,_ we’d still be safe.”

Ahsoka pulls back from Kalifa, lets her legs buckle, drops to sit cross-legged on the ground, elbows on her knees, leaning her chin into her left hand. “Safe?” she pants, shakes her head. “We’ve never been _safe._ This island isn’t safe. We were brought here to _die,”_ and something hot and choking fills her throat until she can’t _breathe,_ can barely force words out around it, and she feels a tear splash onto her cheek. “Anakin would know what to do. He always knows what to do.”

She _misses him,_ misses her Master--she hasn’t felt this _alone_ in a long time, can’t feel him in her head, and now that she _needs him_ why isn’t he _here?_

 _Please, Master,_ she thinks, but she can’t reach him, and she tugs her knees up to her chest and presses her forehead into them, wraps her arms around her shins and clings tight. Lets the tears fall, thick and choking, because what else can she _do?_ She’s tried to fight, she’s tried to stand firm, she got _weapons_ and things were going okay but she _lost O-mer_ and how--how is she supposed to them all out if she can’t even keep them alive? Kalifa’s done a better job of it than she has, so far.

She can’t _do this._

Someone sits down beside her, and she recognizes _Rex,_ slipping an arm around her shoulders and tugging her in to lean against him; she swallows hard and twists sideways, her legs across his lap, and wraps her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest. She needs her Master, she needs _someone,_ someone who wouldn’t get beaten so easily, someone who could actually _protect them._ A better Jedi, a better Commander.

She doesn’t think Anakin or Obi-Wan would’ve let O-mer die.

Rex runs a hand down her back headtail, soothing, and she lets out a soft sound and burrows closer, trying to stifle the tears. “He trusted me,” she whispers, so so faint, and then: “Tarkin said I’m--too impulsive, and if I’d just-- _listened…”_

“And done _what,_ ‘Soka?” Rex asks, heavily. “What else would you have done that wouldn’t have been _worse?”_

She just shakes her head. She could’ve-- _saved him,_ somehow.

“You did the best you could,” he continues, softer, tightens his arms around her. “Sure, we could’ve stayed away from the trap--”

She cuts him off, shaking her head harder. “But the girl would’ve been _tortured to death,”_ she snaps, pushing herself back a little to stare up at him. How could he even _suggest_ that?

He nods, though. “Yeah. Could you live with yourself, knowing you let that happen?”

Ahsoka drops her head back to his shoulder, says, “No,” very quiet. He’s right, really--the choice to fight, to engage the Trandoshans, she couldn’t have made another one. And that’s the choice that got--that got O-mer killed. Because she chose to _fight_ instead of running, instead of letting--instead of going hard, going cold. _Compassion._

_Are you a Jedi or not, O-mer? We’re called to be compassionate, that doesn’t mean sitting back and letting other people get hurt when we can help them._

“Me neither,” Rex says, and she sighs softly, squeezes her eyes shut. “Sometimes, there are no good options, ‘Soka. Sometimes our best--it isn’t enough. And we gotta live with that.”

“It’s not fair,” she says, lowly, even though she knows how childish she sounds.

“No,” he agrees. “It’s not. But it’s the way it is.”

For a moment, she just _breathes._

And then Rex speaks again. “I trust you,” he says, quietly, close to her montral, low enough she doesn’t think the others can hear him. “I _know_ you can do this.”

“That makes one of us,” she says, with a weak, watery laugh, tightens her fingers in his blacks. “What if--”

“Don’t go that way,” he says, stern. “If you start saying _what if,_ you’ll be stuck there.”

 _“Focus on the present,”_ Ahsoka quotes, wryly, a tiny smile tugging at her lips at the memory of a stern-faced Obi-Wan lecturing her. She’d been an Initiate still, small and rambunctious and _bouncy,_ and he’d still been a Knight, and she just wanted to _go,_ but here was this annoying Knight she didn’t even _know_ acting like he was her Master. “What was it that Master Obi-Wan told me once? _Your focus determines your reality._ Something like that.”

Rex nods. “Sounds about right,” and he traces his hand down her headtail again, light.

“Ahsoka, Rex,” Kalifa says, quietly, “we need to sleep. They’ll be back when it’s morning.”

“Why do they leave at night?” Ahsoka asks, tiredly, though she doesn’t pull away from Rex--he’s too warm, too safe, she doesn’t want to.

“We don’t know. There’s something, we think, some kind of predator that can hurt them too--we’ve never wanted to take the risk to find out.”

That’s fair. “If there’s potential hostiles, we need to keep watch,” Rex says, his voice rumbling through her montrals. “I can--”

“No,” she says, determinedly, sits up so she can give him a _look._ “We,” and she gestures at herself and the two _(two)_ younglings, “have the Force. We’re not as tired. I’ll take first watch, wake you up for second.”

Rex grumbles inaudibly, but she can tell he’s exhausted and sore, and so she squeezes his waist one last time and untangles herself from him (even though she doesn’t want to, even though she hasn’t totally gotten control of her tears), moves to the middle of the clearing and lays down on her back. From here she can see the trees all around, can hear a good distance away, and can feel the vibrations in the ground, if something or someone comes.

Rex pushes himself up, comes over and lays down with about half a meter or so between them, close enough to reach out and touch if there’s a problem, but far enough away that there’s still _distance._ Which, she reluctantly admits, is smart; if there’s a problem she’ll be able to get to her feet easier, and also if he was to curl around her tonight she’s not sure she could stay awake.

Kalifa and Jinx curl up together, their breathing steadying out into evenness, and Ahsoka takes a slow, deep breath and prepares herself for a long night. Off in the distance, something howls, eerie and mournful and almost-human, and she shudders and tries to ignore it. _Focus on the present._ Right now, _the present_ is the clearing and the trees around her, towering blue-grey shadows, and the three people she _will_ protect; far-off cries from some not-quite-sentient nocturnal critter aren’t a concern. There’s just enough moonlight to see, splashing like liquid silver over the branches of the trees bordering their little camp, and Ahsoka sweeps her eyes back and forth, watching for a telltale flicker of motion, a silhouette, anything to alert her to a hostile presence. But there’s nothing, the night silent and soft, save for those far-distant calls. It’s too quiet, too _still,_ and she doesn’t like that, searches out the depths of blackness at the base of the trees and the vivid splashes of silver, seeking the enemies that _must_ be there.

But all she sees is mist.


	6. interlude 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another short interlude to show what's going on back on Coruscant! there's probably 2 or 3 chapters left of this fic, maybe a little more, but we're now starting to get into the home stretch!

This is the first time that Jesse thinks Commander Cody hates him, as he's pinning the new badge of rank onto Jesse’s dress greys, following the script he has to. “So for your valor and long service and leadership, Jesse, you're being awarded the rank of Captain.” Cody smooths his hand over the front of Jesse’s coat, where he'd pinned the badge, and Jesse looks away from him, at Commander Lareen.

She's watching the proceedings dispassionately, her brown hair pulled painfully tight back into a bun, and Jesse thinks the same thing he thought when she first showed up, yesterday evening: she is not here about them, except as an afterthought. She's here for General Skywalker.

Their  _ new Commander _ had shown up last night, straight from GAR command, with orders that even General Skywalker couldn't dismiss: Jesse is going to be Captain, and this Commander Lareen is going to be their new commander, and that's the end of it.

Still, when Cody steps back and salutes at Jesse, and Jesse has to make himself raise his hand and salute too, he cannot look Cody in the eyes. He knows Cody and Rex are  _ ori’vode _ , and knows that he is a  _ replacement _ . Whatever Kix says about no one expecting him to be what Rex was. Is. Because Rex isn't dead, isn't gone. He'll be back.

Cody pulls his helmet from under his arm, tugs it on with a sharp enough gesture that Jesse can tell he’s barely controlling his anger, or grief, or whatever he’s feeling - Jesse would rather not know. He twists his own hands together and turns to look at Kix, for reassurance, and Kix smiles tightly, nods.

Jesse wants to talk to his General, because General Skywalker always seems to know what to do, but he can’t. Not today. Skywalker is  _ furious _ (Jesse doesn’t blame him), so that means they have to give him space. So instead, Jesse hurries over to Kix, lets his  _ ori’vod _ pull him into a hug and press their foreheads together. “You’re gonna do great,  _ vod, _ ” Kix says, quietly.

“Until he gets back,” Jesse insists.

“Yeah. Till they get back and we can wave good-bye to our  _ dikut’la _ new commander,” Kix says, voice low.

Commander Lareen has already deemed their barracks a  _ disaster  _ and their adherence to protocol  _ abysmal  _ and they themselves  _ sloppy and unfit for real battle _ . Jesse knows her type of officer, thinks they could have gotten worse, but they all know that their new commander’s real job is to keep an eye on General Skywalker for the GAR.

The men aren’t going to listen to her, are going to get themselves in trouble. Normally, Jesse would be right there with them, because he  _ hates _ her. (Hates that she’s replacing their real Commander, like Cody hates that Jesse’s replacing Rex.) But he’s the captain now, which means he has to do what Rex would do, if he were here, and get his  _ vode _ to be careful.

He doesn’t know  _ how _ , and he doesn’t think he can  _ do this _ .

~~~

Brii does  _ not _ like Commander Lareen.

Commander Lareen thinks the 501st is  _ sloppy. _ She says that Brii’s drawings, which  have been hung in places of honor over bunks and attached to doors (and there’s one truly memorable caricature of General Skywalker hanging up on the outside of the door to their barracks), are nonregulation, and that the fact that he sketches instead of trains is  _ defective, _ and that the way he spreads his pencils all over his bunk while he’s sketching and how he repaints his armor approximately every four days means he’s not battle-ready.

Brii thinks Commander Lareen can go kriff herself. With a sharp object. In the  _ shebs. _ He has a vibroblade she can borrow, even.

But  _ Jesse _ says that they’re not  _ allowed _ to say shit like that, at least not in Basic where Commander Lareen can hear them. As if Jesse isn’t usually right there talking shit with the rest of them.

Commander Lareen, unsurprisingly, doesn’t like Mando’a either.

_ Commander Lareen _ is an  _ osik’la shabuir _ who walks around like she’s the gods-damned  _ Chancellor _ and talks like she’s got a stick up her  _ shebs _ and acts like the  _ vode _ are  _ di’kutla, _ like just because she has her own face and her own DNA she’s  _ better _ than them, like they’re all just fancy clankers. Calls them  _ defective _ the same way Longshot calls the scope on his sniper rifle  _ shuk’yc. _ Like there’s something wrong with their  _ programming. _

“I am going to change my name,” Brii announces to Tup, dramatically, after Jesse’s promotion to Captain, which is  _ so karking pointless, _ because the  _ real _ Captain (not that Jesse wouldn’t be a good Captain, he would be) isn’t  _ dead. _ “Kriff  _ briikase, _ I’m gonna be  _ aden’yc _ from now on.”

“From  _ happy _ to  _ angry, _ eh?” Tup asks, not looking up from cleaning his blaster. “Not a fan of our lovely new commander, I take it?”

_ “Commander Lareen,” _ Brii says, “says my drawings are nonregulation and can’t be hung up and wants to throw all my pens and pencils and my sketchbook away.”

“Don’t let her near your stuff,” his  _ ori’vod _ says, mildly. “The Captain and the Commander’ll be back soon, and everything will be alright.”

Brii  _ wants _ to believe that, but it’s been  _ five days _ and the only thing General Skywalker can say is that he can feel that Commander Tano isn’t  _ dead. _ Which doesn’t  _ help. _

That’s not  _ enough _ for the GAR.

And besides, everybody knows the GAR’s been  _ dying _ to get high brass inside  _ Anakin Skywalker’s _ battalion, almost since the beginning of the war. The only other battalions the GAR wants that badly are, predictably, the 212th and the 104th, and General Plo and General Kenobi are nowhere  _ near _ as troublesome as General Skywalker is.

Usually, Brii would be  _ proud _ of that. But right now he isn’t, because it means the GAR is over-eager to replace their Commander, like loth-wolves smelling blood, sensing a weakness. And  _ yes, _ Brii knows that GAR protocol states  _ three days _ MIA before ranking clone officers have to be replaced, but… but since there’s a  _ Jedi _ involved, they all thought--maybe--but no.

“Hey,  _ vode,” _ Fives says, walking over, “some of us are going to 79’s to…  _ celebrate _ Jesse’s promotion. Wanna come?”

Not really. But the way Fives says  _ celebrate _ makes Brii think this isn’t really  _ celebrating  _ at all. So he half-shrugs one shoulder, nods, says, “General Skywalker should come too.”

“Already commed him. We’re liberating Echo from the medbay for this. Already got Kix to agree.”

So it’s not celebration, it’s mourning.

Brii has several pictures of Captain Rex in his sketchbook. He isn’t  _ supposed _ to draw the Captain, because the Captain has threatened  _ dish detail _ many times, but how could Brii  _ not? _

Now those drawings might be the only real piece of  _ Captain Rex _ the battalion has left.

Brii hates this. He wants his  _ vod _ back, he wants his Commander back. He wants everything to be  _ normal _ again.

~~~

Alpha has only been to 79’s once, back when he first joined the battalion and Jesse and Tup had insisted on dragging him and Beta and a worried Fives to the club to celebrate Alpha and Beta being there. It had been one of the most amazing things to happen to either of them, Alpha thinks, the fact that their new battalion was so excited to have them that they went out for drinks.

It’s not the same, this time, although there’s a sense of companionship that he desperately appreciates. Fives, by virtue of his being an ARC trooper, had commandeered them a table in the corner of the club, and almost all of Torrent Company (the battalion’s finest) is seated there with half a dozen others and Beta and Alpha. Other members of the 501st and some  _ vode _ from the 212th come by occasionally with drinks, to talk, and to congratulate Jesse (who is not looking at anyone, has exchanged his greys and Captain’s bars for his armor).

Commander Lareen had not been invited to join them, and she’s not here. She’s not their commander, so that’s fine. Alpha wishes Commander Tano would hurry up and get back so that  _ hardass _ would get out of their battalion and back to giving orders from an office where she belongs.

The Jedi aren’t like the GAR, they haven’t declared anything about Commander Tano yet; it seems like they’re waiting on General Skywalker or General Kenobi to give up or else find her. And it helps Alpha, some, that General Skywalker keeps saying he can  _ feel _ Commander Tano (whatever that means), that she isn’t dead. Alpha trusts his General ( _ his General! _ ).

Still, he’s not totally sure that Skywalker believes it, when he keeps saying the Commander is alive and he’ll find her, because he’s been nursing the same cup of Corellian whiskey for half an hour now, hasn’t finished it, and is mostly staring blankly at the table. Alpha doesn’t know what you’re supposed to do when a  _ Jedi _ , when your  _ General _ , looks lost.

Hells, everyone’s looked all wrong lately, everything’s  _ felt _ all wrong. It should be good that Jesse got promoted, but everyone hates it, including Jesse (maybe especially Jesse?), and they’re “celebrating” it so they all have an excuse to be here, missing their Captain and Commander.

Once both of them get back, though, it’ll be fine. Messy, for a bit, but then so much better than this.

Beta thinks they won’t be back, Beta believes they’re dead, but Beta’s wrong. Alpha has seen Commander Tano fight and he thinks five days is  _ nothing _ . He has a hard time believing anything even  _ took _ them, although it did - but he’s  _ sure _ they’re fine. Both of them, because Commander Tano wouldn’t let anything happen to their Captain.

Whatever Beta says is  _ logical _ .

~~~

Cody does not want to be here.

He does not want to sit at this table, surrounded by  _ vode _ who still cling to hope. Sit with his  _ ori’vod’s _ General, who is pretending he still believes Rex and the Commander can be found; sit with Fives and Echo (still leaning heavy and slow on a cane, relearning how to walk on his new leg) and the rest of Torrent, half of whom are  _ determined _ their missing members are still alive.

He does not want to be anywhere near Jesse, to have to try and look his  _ vod _ in the eyes.

_ For your valor and long service and leadership, Jesse, you’re being awarded the rank of Captain. _

Jesse is a good soldier.

But he is not, and will never be, Cody’s  _ ori’vod. _

Cody takes a sip of his whiskey, sets the glass down careful (deliberately holds his fingers loose, so he doesn’t shatter it), runs the fingers of his left hand over the stripe of blue on his right bracer.  _ My brother. _ The only thing he has left, of Rex, of his  _ ori’vod, _ is a single straight strip of color, worn enough that little flecks flake off onto his fingertips when Cody brushes against it. He has been doing that too much, lately.

His  _ ori’vod _ is gone.

If not dead, then lost.

And he, Cody, has just had to  _ replace him. _

“Commander?”

Cody looks up, only because the hesitant voice is familiar, belongs to one of Rex’s  _ vod’ike, _ the artist with the red-tipped hair and the riotous armor. Brii, short for  _ briikase. _ (It is not surprising that Rex would want to protect this one. Would have wanted to. Kriff.)  Doesn’t speak, because he does not trust his voice--sips his drink instead, inclines his head.

Brii holds out a piece of paper. “I thought--you might want this, sir. I wasn’t  _ supposed _ to draw him, he said he’d give me dish detail, but I--did it anyway,” and he flushes.

Cody takes the proffered paper in one hand, flips it so he can see--nearly drops his drink in shock. Because it is more than just one of the artist’s messy sketches; this is done in full, rich colors, vivid and vibrant and  _ alive, _ an imagine of Rex in half his armor, holding a jetpack by the shoulder strap and eyeing it the way one would observe a hungry dire-cat. Or a snake of some sort.

Like he expects the thing to jump out and devour him.

Cody does not  _ mean _ to smile, does not mean to crack, but he does. Because the picture is so very much like his  _ ori’vod, _ and Cody  _ misses _ his brother, his best friend. He carefully places the drawing on the table, smoothes it out, splays his fingers over Rex’s bracer. The paint feels like  _ safety, _ warm and rough and catching on his calloused skin. (A bracer wasn’t enough  _ safety _ for Rex. He should have been there. He wasn’t. He failed them both. Failed them all, the whole battalion, because he has seen the shatter-lines in the eyes of those blue-painted  _ vode _ staring at him.)

“Thank you, Brii,” he says, voice calm, careful, modulated just  _ so, _ and he makes himself stone, ice, durasteel, harder and colder and more solid than all three combined. Makes his face blank as new armor, as shinies fresh off Kamino, as dark and empty and reflective as a sleeping datapad. Rex would have teased Brii, about this, Cody thinks; he would’ve pretended not to like it, but secretly been flattered.

But that is not something he can think about right now. Right now he is stone, he is ice, he is durasteel. He is emotionless. He is calm. He is strength, for his  _ vode _ who need him. (He was not there and so the fault is partially his, and that  _ burns, _ and that is right. He was not there and so he failed them, and when you fail someone you are not allowed to grieve for them. So he holds the burn close, deep in his chest, he takes that pain and clutches it until it sears his hands and his heart, and that is good, that is right, that is deserved.) He is not allowed to shatter, to shake apart on the fracture lines engraved upon his soul, his skin, his bones. No matter how much it  _ stabs, _ how much it slices sharp like a good vibroblade across his heart to see that familiar look of skeptical wariness on his  _ ori’vod’s _ face. How much the memory of  _ laughter _ scores like a lightsaber deep into his  _ self, _ where he cannot hide, cannot ignore, where all he can do is curl around the wound like a dying  _ vod _ with a hole in his gut, clutching at the ragged and torn skin to try and force the blood back by sheer desperate  _ will. _

“You--you’re welcome. Sir,” says the kid, looks away, and Cody forces his hand to  _ open _ from where it has clamped down on his bracer, like the claw of a commando droid.

His palm is coated in blue dust, clinging, deep in the cracks of his fingers and the pores of his skin, tracing the lines and wrinkles and callouses from blasters and armor. Unclenches his other fist from around his glass of whiskey, places his palms flat on the drawing (leaves a soft puff of paint behind, in the distorted not-quite-mirror of his handprint, like the paint on Echo’s armor, Rex’s handprint in blue blood), devotes his whole focus (laser-sharp and unwavering, the world through a scope, breathe in, breathe out) to neatly, precisely folding the drawing up so he can tuck it reverently inside a pouch on his gunbelt, where it will be safe, for now. 

He has two things left of his  _ ori’vod, _ of his brother: a bracer molded to his forearm (dusty white and bleeding blue and never enough) and a vibroblade in his gauntlet.

Now he has this image, too, this memory crystalized on paper, captured in sweeping strokes of a pencil and a paintbrush.

It will have to be enough.

(It will never be enough)

~~~

_ Not dead _ , it tells Kix, the- something. But it’s ridiculous to listen to daydreams, because if the Commander and the Captain weren’t dead or gone, they’d have found a way to get through, to get home or comm them or send a sign. But Skywalker can’t reach Ahsoka, and that’s  _ not right, should be able to feel her, should be able to know _ .

Cody folds up the drawing he’s been given, which Kix thinks worries Brii, somehow, but he doesn’t focus on that. Brii has Tup.

Jesse needs Kix.

Kix puts a hand on his  _ vod’s _ shoulder, takes a sip of his drink. “You doing okay?”

Jesse shrugs. He’s not drinking, which is… unusual, for him, when he’s upset, but he’s not been handling this like he does most things. The only thing that’s been the same is the pacing.

Kix hasn’t been able to get him to sleep for more than a few hours at a time.

When it’s apparent that the only answer will be a shrug, Kix stands, gestures for Jesse to come with him and heads in the direction of the bar. Jesse trails after him, and Kix rubs his hand over the tattoos on his head, tiredly. “You know they don’t hate you,  _ ori’vod _ .”

“Might as well,” Jesse says, tightly. “It comes out to the same thing.” Kix thinks Jesse should have stayed in the barracks, but his brother wasn’t going to let the battalion go without him.

“It’s not like that,” Kix insists. “Everyone knows you’re going to do great and try your best.”

Jesse steps up closer to him, curls his hands into fists at his sides. “But it isn’t what anyone wants,” he says. “ _ I _ don’t want this, Kix.”

“I know.” KIx does. They’ve been talking about it. Jesse thinks the Captain and Commander are alive. Kix doesn’t agree.

_ (They are alive, little one, listen. Listen.) _

“How am I supposed to even  _ try _ when I know- All they’re ever going to be doing is wishing I was Rex.” Jesse waves Kix off when Kix gestures at the bartender for two drinks. “Don’t want any,  _ vod _ .”

Kix sighs. Although he knows Commander Tano’s leg was healed, he can’t help worrying about-

But they’re dead, so it doesn’t matter.

“They need you though, Jesse. I do. And that means- I think you have to be there for them even if they don’t want that.”

“But that’s what-”

What Rex did, Kix knows.

“Do you think Commander Lareen is going to help us like you could?” he asks, shortly. “Somebody has to be there for this battalion, and who it  _ should _ be doesn’t matter. You’re here, and we’re grateful you are.”

Jesse grits his teeth. “But they all want me to be someone else,” he says. “I should be, if I’m-”

“ _ Ori’vod _ , enough.” Kix presses his own new drink into Jesse’s hand and shakes his head as they go back to sit down, and his  _ vod’s  _ eyes drop to the floor, automatic. Kix has to let the conversation drop, although he doesn’t want to.

They need their Captain and Commander back, need their  _ aliit _ to feel right again, but if Skywalker can’t feel or find Commander Tano ( _ not good, not right _ ), and if they’ve heard  _ nothing  _ yet - then they aren’t getting either of them back. 

What are they going to do without their real Commander? Kix knows Jesse will do a good job (not the same, but good), but Commander Lareen? He doesn’t know. Their General has lost his padawan and his battalion their beloved Commander all at once, and now - Kix doesn’t know where they go from here, although he  _ does _ know it will be fine.

Will have to be.

Whether they want it or not.

~~~

This is all so  _ wrong. _

That’s the only thing Anakin knows, the only thing he can keep straight--that this is  _ wrong, _ that Ahsoka and Rex shouldn’t be  _ gone, _ that he should be able to  _ feel her _ like normal. The Force doesn’t  _ like this, _ doesn’t like the way the bond is all wrong, inside-out and backwards, so he can barely feel her and she can barely feel him and there’s something  _ holding _ them apart, just soft, barely there.

He wants his Padawan back.

His men want their Commander.

And their Captain, of course.

_ Kriff. _

How are they going to do this? She’s alive, they’re  _ both _ alive, and he  _ will _ find them.

He shouldn’t even  _ be here, _ he should be back, looking, making comms, finding them. But the men  _ need him _ and Jesse doesn’t want this and none of them like the new commander (he’s already heard some of the men calling her a hardass, which… is appropriate, honestly). So he needs to be here for them, even though he hates all of this, even though he just wants to find Ahsoka and hug her until she can’t breathe and starts complaining, and then smack Rex on the back of the head for being an idiot.

He hasn’t slept since Kix unfairly drug  _ his wife _ into matters, and then  _ sedated _ him, like a kriffing  _ youngling; _ Obi-Wan would scold, but Anakin can’t sleep. When he tries, he just sees Ahsoka’s eyes blaming him, and Rex too,  _ why didn’t you come find me, why didn’t you save me? _ and he wakes up screaming, and no.

Not again. He doesn’t want to see them.

And Anakin is tired, yes, but he wants his Padawan and his Captain back more, and so he sips very slow on his whiskey and tries not to  _ think _ and fails, mostly.

~~~

Obi-Wan does not go to 79’s with Cody. His Commander needs him, he thinks, but not now, and Obi-Wan does not want to get in the way of the clones’ grieving.

Anakin is another matter entirely, and Obi-Wan finds him as soon as he hears they've returned from 79’s, pulls him aside to walk through the halls of the barracks, because his Padawan is stretched close to tearing, close to  _ too much _ . He tells himself to speak to Cody later, because his Commander won't ask for help and won't admit to feeling  _ loss _ but Obi-Wan dares to say he knows Cody, and knows how he's taking this.

But at the moment, Anakin.

“How are you holding up?” he asks, gently, although he knows the answer is  _ not well _ .

“Fine,” says Anakin, and Obi sighs softly, rubs his forehead with one hand.

“Anakin, I don't know why it's so hard for you to just be honest with me, once in a while. I do know you, a little bit, and I know you're not  _ fine _ .” He tucks his hands in the sleeves of his robe where he can tap a measured pattern on the inside of his wrist, to help himself focus.

“I'm managing, Obi-Wan.” Anakin’s voice is so tight and strained, Obi wonders whether he can  _ hear _ himself, and if so, how he expects to fool anyone. Sometimes he feels like he's missed reaching Anakin, doesn't know why, but he's determined that that won't happen this time.

He sighs again, takes a moment to examine Anakin’s expression and posture, thinks again that Anakin looks stretched threadbare, is  _ trying _ , so hard. To find Ahsoka, yes, but also (he  _ believes _ ) to look as if he can do all of this and balance everything and find both of them.

Obi thinks Anakin looks very alone, suddenly, like he had when he was a little boy and he'd had to leave his mother behind, only to be told he couldn't train as a Jedi. He stops, pulls his hands out of his sleeves and catches Anakin’s shoulder. “Anakin…” He hesitates, looks for the right thing to say. He could tell Anakin to let them go, or to be careful of his attachment to them, but he thinks Anakin is  _ trying _ \- trying maybe too hard. “I'm sorry you haven't found them yet,” he says instead, quietly, and Anakin fidgets and looks down.

“Well, I will,” he says.

Obi doesn't dispute or agree with that statement, because what good would that do? He casts around for the right answer a moment, but it's Anakin’s tense shoulders and clenched jaw that tell Obi-Wan what he should do - what he did when Anakin was small and had nightmares.

He puts an arm around Anakin’s shoulders and pulls him in close, and for a moment Anakin is just stiff and Obi-Wan senses he's confused. Then he exhales, suddenly, and slumps against Obi, shoves both arms around him and hangs on so very tight. Obi sighs and puts his other hand on Anakin's shoulder, eases Light into the ambient Force.

“I have to get them back,” Anakin says, very quiet and small. “They need me, if I can't find them-”

“They'll be alright,” Obi-Wan interrupts, gently. “You're doing your best, Anakin, and if you  _ can't _ find them, you have to trust they can make it back.” Or if they can't, he has to let them go.

Anakin pulls back, shaking his head. “But Ahsoka's my Padawan, it's my responsibility to look after her, and I failed her.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says, carefully, tucks his hands back inside his sleeves. “She is your Padawan. And you have taught her as best you could, haven't you?”

“Yeah, but I-”

“She has learned well. Ahsoka is bright and talented and,” Obi smiles, “just as  _ creative _ as you. Anakin, if you can't reach them… You will have to leave it up to Ahsoka to remember what you taught her, and to find you again. You can't always be there, Anakin, except through the lessons you taught her.”

Anakin shifts his weight back and forth a little. “But Master, why- why can't I feel her? There's something blocking the training bond and I don't know… I don't  _ understand _ .” Obi-Wan frowns, the Force twisting for a moment with  _ wrong, wrong, not right _ . “I should be able to feel her.”

Anything that can make a  _ training _ bond hard to feel - Obi-Wan reaches for the feel of Anakin’s bond with Ahsoka in the Force, tests it, but he can't feel anything different except for a  _ smallness _ , something like restriction. He pushes away the cold dread that's suddenly heavy in his stomach, reaches out again to squeeze Anakin’s shoulder. “I don't know what could cause that, Anakin,” he says calmly, “but you have to believe she will take care of herself. She's more than equal to any challenge, I'm sure.”

He hopes. It's concerning, that they've heard nothing and that the bond is inaccessible. But Obi-Wan is practised at  _ hoping _ , and when that fails, at letting the Force take the grief.

Still, he hopes that this will not be how Anakin learns to do the latter. Ahsoka is too young and bright to be lost to an uncaring galaxy in the middle of a war, and Obi-Wan does not want Cody to have to live with his grief for too long.

So he resumes walking with Anakin and keeps up a steady projection of peace through their training bond, hoping the Force will be with their padawan where they cannot.


	7. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Back with a new chapter! We're pretty proud of this one.
> 
> The creatures in this chapter are called mistwyrms, and they are our creepy pets, so please don't steal them. And on that note, enjoy!

It’s quiet.

Ahsoka’s  _ tired, _ but there’s something soothing about just laying on her back in the grass, staring up at the trees, at the sky; something  _ calming _ about it, something almost  _ peaceful. _ She’s been watching for a bit under an hour; with four of them, the shifts can be  _ short, _ which is nice. Because she really is  _ exhausted. _ Sleeping will help, she thinks, will make the events of today less… present, less  _ immediate, _ less shocking and sharp and choking.

The mist has been rising steadily since nightfall, little wisps and shreds of white. It’s almost  _ pretty, _ Ahsoka thinks, except that it means visibility is lower and it’ll be harder to tell if there’s hostiles out there. But it’s nice.

The Force doesn’t think so. The Force thinks there’s something wrong. Maybe it has to do with the fact that those shrieking howls have been getting steadily closer, though they’re still not  _ close _ by any means--

**_Little ‘Soka, up!_ ** a voice that sounds almost like Master Plo, but older, echoing, ancient, says, rips through her mind, and she frowns at it, reaching (a bond, maybe?), looking for--

_ Pain. _

Something  _ burns _ across her back, her headtails, the bare skin on her arms and legs, and she bites back a yelp and flips to her feet--it’s the  _ mist, _ she realizes abruptly, because she breathes and it feels like fire down her throat, her lungs, and she drops to her knees (and everything’s screaming  _ move, _ the scrapes and cuts and burns on her headtails and montrals feel like they’ve been dipped in acid, and it  _ hurts) _ and shakes Rex’s shoulder  _ hard, _ pulls away as soon as his eyes open and moves to Kalifa and Jinx,  _ yanking _ them to their feet.

“We have to go  _ now,” _ she snaps, coughs because  _ it hurts _ and speaking makes it worse, “the trees, the mist--”

Jinx claps his hands over his lekku, looking suddenly  _ miserable _ and in pain, and he nods, jumps up into a tree, and Kalifa follows. Ahsoka doesn’t waste time letting Rex climb up, not when he’s been  _ choked _ recently and they can’t be breathing this--instead she ducks her shoulder under his arm, wraps her own arm around his chest, half-drags him near the tree, and before he can say a word she  _ begs _ the Force for the strength and then  _ jumps. _ Clings to the Force for balance as she lands on a branch, gasping. “We have to climb--higher,” she says, her voice rough and catching in her throat, “out of the mist.”

~~~

The mist against Rex’s skin feels like hot oil, spitting and skittering across bruises and cuts and his  _ lungs _ with flashes of  _ heat _ that cling and won't go away, and Ahsoka's right. They need to climb, because Jinx is clinging to his lekku, shaking, and Ahsoka's headtails are shivering even though she appears not to be feeling anything otherwise.

He knows she is because  _ he _ is, every breath is bubbling hot and scraping, so he reaches for a handhold to start climbing up and all his instincts tell him  **_no!_ ** He yanks his hand back automatically, although he couldn't say why, and is  _ still _ ; Ahsoka and the younglings, who've already jumped to the next branch, look at him like he's crazy, and maybe he is, but-

There's a soft scrape of claws or scales or metal against wood, deliberate, a  _ click, click, click _ like a useless trigger. It's all misty and shifting and dark, but something isn't right here, something prickles on the back of his neck, something is  _ watching him _ . Is waiting.

“Rex?”

He shifts back on the branch, looks up at them, because  _ not right _ in the corner of his eye and he needs to be  _ not here _ .

But he can't climb, he thinks, because something isn't right. Rasp of metal on bark, a shift in the shadows. “Can you give me a boost, ‘Soka?” he asks, slow, cautious. “I'm gonna just jump.”

“Okay,” she says, sounds spooked and raspy, and the mist is thick and white and acid against his skin, his gashed arm and bruised throat. He takes a burning breath (and almost thinks he sees something against the mottled bark of the tree, doesn't know, but his gut says  _ go, get out _ ), nods to Ahsoka, and  _ jumps _ .

And something else does too - there's a flash in the mist, dark and undulating, and a  _ thing _ , a creature, lunges away from the tree trunk where he'd been going to reach for a handhold, sinks  _ claws _ into his leg and even though he feels Ahsoka trying to yank him up, suddenly there's weight (as much as another person) dragging him down, slamming him back into the branch, and he gets just a moment's glimpse of teeth and smoky skin and gaunt, reaching limbs. Then Ahsoka lands on the creature, slashes both vibroblades down through what passes for its neck, and it collapses, black blood gushing out of the severed stump, spurting all over his legs and Ahsoka’s face and headtails. He swears and automatically curls over his legs because it's  _ burning _ , chemical and acid over the deep gashes in his skin, and  _ Ahsoka _ is gasping, wiping frantically at her face, and then there's a shivering, horrible, claws-on-metal cry, taken up by  _ gods know _ how many voices.

“Get up here!” Kalifa shrieks, voice raw, and Rex forces himself up on his screaming legs and grabs Ahsoka. “ _ Now, _ hurry,  _ get up!” _

~~~

Ahsoka can’t  _ breathe. _

Something  _ burns _ and sears like fire, like acid, hot and bubbling over her face and splashing on her montrals and her headtails, and she scrubs desperately at them with her forearms, the backs of her hands, ignores the way her skin is screaming and raw. They have to--go, get up, get away, right,  _ Force help me, _ she grits her teeth and locks an arm around Rex’s side and  _ jumps, _ pulls him up with her, goes to her knees on the new branch and leans over, trying somehow to swallow the pain, to stop the tears falling down her cheeks.

“Get  _ up,” _ Kalifa says, shakes her shoulder  _ hard, _ and Ahsoka gasps and closes her eyes and clenches her jaw and  _ stands, _ helps Rex (it got on his legs, she thinks, he’s got to be hurting too). “Ahsoka, can you find our shelter?”

Kalifa is already running, and it’s all Ahsoka can do to push herself into a staggering half-run (and she glances back over her shoulder and there’s _creatures,_ long and sinuous and night-dark, silver-bright, eyeless and clawed and sharp teeth, leaping up and snapping at their feet, and they have to _go);_ she tugs on Rex and rasps out, “Maybe,” and reaches for the Force, pleading more than anything, _please help me please,_ and there’s a tugging deep in her center, a sort of _knowing,_ _this way,_ and she says, “Yes, let me--lead.”

Kalifa falls back immediately, and Ahsoka forces the pain  _ back,  _ away, down with the  _ horror _ and the  _ fear, _ and she  _ moves-- _ and razor-sharp jaws snap at her foot and she jams her boot into its head (or what passes for a head) and moves on, except Kalifa  _ yelps _ and says  _ “Ahsoka!” _ and she whips around to see the younger girl clinging to Jinx’s hand and shoulder, one of the creatures--the same one?--with its jaws locked tight around her ankle. And it  _ hurts _ but she  _ moves, _ flips the shorter vibroblade in her hand and lunges back past Rex and stretches her arm out.

Snaps, “Get your foot back  _ as soon as you can, _ the blood burns,” and severs its head from its body, the follow-through bringing her hand below the branch--and something curls around her hand, her wrist, light, so light, claws tracing her skin like they’re searching for a nerve, and  _ you are mine now _ and she recoils  _ hard, _ jerks back away, shaking, stumbling, bringing her hands close to her chest and shaking her head and backing up as fast as she can, because  _ no no no, _ she can’t, she won’t, please--

Something, some _ one, _ grabs her, pulls her back, and she almost fights except it’s  _ Rex, _ and he says, “I’ve got you, let’s  _ go,” _ in her montral, rough and rasping, and then he pulls back so he won’t deafen her and shouts,  _ “Up! _ We need to go  _ up!” _

Climb, he means climb.

“Hollow’s that way,” she pants, points with a trembling hand, and then she grabs Rex again and  _ jumps _ up, Kalifa and Jinx just behind her, and there’s a shivering  _ snarl, _ high-pitched and ringing, and Ahsoka can’t  _ breathe, _ can’t think, wants to clap her hands over her montrals but everything  _ burns _ too much for that and it’s all she can do just to stay  _ still. _

~~~

Rex draws his focus to a narrow, narrow point of fighting and running and instinct so that the pain is just a shell, an outside, barely-relevant thing that cannot stop him, and clings to Ahsoka's arm with one hand, to help keep her moving because she's scared and they have to get back to the hollow (and  _ he's _ scared). The creatures are sometimes silent,  _ impossibly _ so, invisible and gone but making the mist below them writhe, and then sometimes they're slicing through the trees above them, shuddering black and trying to cut them off (Rex thinks it's intentional, thinks the things  _ know _ why Ahsoka is hesitant to use her vibroblades and that he is the slowest of them), scrabbling down the trunks, onto branches, shrieking like frightened children. Then Ahsoka has to fight, and Rex breaks off thick tree branch to use as a club, and the things don't like her vibroblades but they come anyway, and killing them spatters burning blood, and they seem to  _ know this _ . He can beat them off the branches to fall, but they just come back, half slithering, half climbing, and in their eyeless faces he almost thinks he can see laughter (although he doesn't know).

But they struggle upward anyway, Rex trying to support Ahsoka and keep his leg from buckling and make sure they don't let anything happen to Kalifa and Jinx. Every time they gain height, the creatures double their attacks, jump at them from above (and Rex has taken to grabbing them as they attack and bodily throwing them off the branches because Ahsoka's arms are constantly being splashed with acidic blood, except he almost falls and she keeps having to steady him).

And then, during one of the silent times when the  _ things _ sidle away, slip silent through the mists, there's a rush of delicious cool air and a  _ crack _ of thunder, and Rex sees Ahsoka wince and he swears, hoarse, because a  _ storm _ is the last thing they need. “Rex, how can we-?” she starts, and then it thunders again, lightning flashing silver-blue, and the sky opens up, rain slashing down in sheets through the leaves.

The water both soothes and stings as it pelts his injuries, and Rex tips his head back, catches some of the liquid in his mouth. “We have to keep going,” he coughs.

So they do.

They do, but when the creatures next start shrieking, it's not close, and not accompanied by new attacks, and Rex isn't sure why but he's not going to question it.

~~~

The creatures don’t seem to like the storm.

It’s a blessing, Ahsoka thinks wearily, even though the thunder stabs too-loud through her montrals, because the rain feels good on the burned skin on her face, her montrals, the backs of her arms and hands, and the creatures are letting them  _ go, _ and they’re free to climb higher, follow the faint tugging of the Force back towards familiar ground. Trees she knows, even in the darkness, and the sparkling of lightning  _ (aden’tra, _ Rex had called it) off the bay, and then they’re climbing up the long, high branch and staggering into the hollow and collapsing.

_ Force, _ she  _ hurts. _

Her bracers are covered with black blood, and she carefully pulls them off, even though her suddenly-exposed forearms make her feel  _ vulnerable, _ because she doesn’t want any more of that  _ stuff _ getting on her. She barely has time to set them aside before her careful compartmentalization fails and there’s a  _ wave _ of raw, boiling  _ pain, _ burning across her face and the backs of her hands, everywhere really, but the worst of it where blood splashed black and bubbling along her unprotected skin, and on her head, her montrals,  _ everywhere. _

There’s tears of pain dripping down her cheeks and she can’t quite  _ stop them, _ but she’s careful to breathe slow and even (as she can), leaning half-over with one hand propping her up and staring at the floor and trying to ride out the waves of pain.  _ Force. _ Hells.

She looks up a little, trying to see what  _ shape _ everyone else is in; Rex has limped over to where the fire is usually, has his good leg pulled up to his chest and his forehead resting against it, his arms tight around his stomach. She can’t really see his face, but she almost thinks he might be  _ crying, _ just a little bit.

Kalifa and Jinx are sitting tight together on the other side of the hollow, and both of them are crying, Ahsoka notes. She takes a deep breath, pushes herself to her feet and limps painfully over to them, drops back down. (There’s a line of bloody fire down her left calf and it  _ screams _ when it brushes against the wood.) “Are either of you hurt?” she rasps, winces as the words tear at her raw throat.

“Jinx is,” Kalifa whispers, though Ahsoka remembers teeth around her ankle and thinks the younger girl is hurt more than she’s letting on. “One of those-- _ things _ bit his lek.”

_ Kriffing hells, _ no wonder he’s crying. “Let me see,” Ahsoka says, grabs a nearby gourd of water as Jinx turns around, shifting so she can look at the injury. It’s deep but thankfully not  _ long, _ a sharp puncture that tears down and gets gradually shallower, maybe the length of her palm, from a tooth--or maybe a claw, she thinks, looking closer. “I’ll have to clean it out first, okay?”

Jinx nods, reaches out and grabs Kalifa’s hand in both of his, and Ahsoka drizzles water over it carefully, even though that makes him gasp. When it looks like it  _ might _ be clean, she pulls out the shorter of her vibroblades and says, “Kalifa, cut me some bandages, whatever fabric you can spare from your clothes.” Waits until the girl takes the vibroblade, and then addresses Jinx. “I’m not very good at this, I’m sorry, but I’ll do what I can and then wrap it up, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers, pained, and she takes a deep breath, grits her teeth, nods to herself.

Settles a hand over the injury and reaches for the Force and asks it, softly, to  _ please heal. Please. _

And she is not  _ good _ at this, but she directs the Force at the worst of the injury, the deepest points, infection and dirt and tearing in the muscle, until the Force says  _ no more _ and pulls out of her reach. And it’s a sloppy healing job, but it’s  _ something, _ and she thinks--she thinks that’s good.

Everything hurts so much  _ more _ when she comes back out of her meditation, though, and when she reaches for the strips of cloth Kalifa’s cut her arms and hands  _ burn, _ and it’s all she can do to keep them steady as she carefully bandages the injury. “There,” she breathes, rough, and scoots herself back a little (and her muscles feel like they’re about to collapse). “Feel any better?”

Jinx  _ looks _ at her for a minute, and then he swallows and nods and says, “Yeah. I’m--sorry for yelling at you.”

“It’s okay,” Ahsoka chokes out through the sudden tightness in her throat. “I--understand.”

~~~

Rex thinks he might throw up. Pain washes in sizzling, burning waves from his scored leg to his arm to his throat, leaving him trembling and tense and almost feverish between the swells, and it's all he can do to be still, to not reach for his injured leg. The rain helped, but now it all just burns more, and he knows all he can do is wait for it to ease and then see if he should even bandage it ( _ you've got to be careful about burns _ , Kix tells him,  _ they aren't all the same _ ). But he's bleeding, so he'll most likely have to focus on that first.

It takes him too long to realize Ahsoka has sat down next to him, which would worry him except this is their shelter and they're safe here, and she's safe. (He should be paying more attention to his surroundings, but…)

“You okay, ‘Soka?” he rasps, lifting his forehead off his knee and swallowing, hard. He scrubs at his eyes with a clean hand, tries valiantly for a smile. It doesn't work. Oh well.

“Fine, Rex,” she tells him, holds a hand over his leg and closes her eyes, which means something, right? He tries to connect the pieces, but another surge of pain scrambles those thoughts and it won't stop, won't go away, it's heat and fire and sickness and shaking he wants it to stop (it will pass like it always does, just  _ wait _ ).

The spike of agony makes it  _ intensely _ clear what's happening when it's suddenly gone, the sharpest of the pain, relief so sweet Rex has to bite back a small whimper. But that helps him remember why Ahsoka has her eyes closed, looks focused, and he swallows and says, “Hey, you can't do that. Ahsoka. You don't have the energy to spare.” He's proud of how determined he sounds, even though he really doesn't want her to stop because it hurts.

“You let me worry about that, Rexter,” she says, deceptively smooth.

“No.” Rex steels himself, reaches out and grabs her hand and shakes his head at her. She yelps, pained and sharp, and  _ right _ . He lets go, fast. “You're not worrying  _ enough _ ,” he says, intent. He needs water. “Stop trying to heal me. Sir.”

“I didn't ask your opinion,” she says, sharp, and reaches out over his leg again, so he grabs her forearm, where her bracers protected her skin, and holds her still. Thunder rumbles, low and growling and enduring, and he shakes his head.

“ _ Enough _ , Ahsoka. You're hurt too, and exhausted, and this day has been  _ hell _ . So just kriffing- sit down,” he breathes through a twinge in his arm, “and  _ rest _ . I don't  _ want you _ hurting yourself to fix me.”  _ Gods _ , this shouldn't be so complicated. “You wanna help, get me some water, but stop- Never mind.”

Ahsoka sighs, says, quiet, “I'm sorry,” gets up (and he sees blisters and traces of blood on her calf and she should sit back down) and limps away from him, gets a water gourd, comes back and sits down and he takes it from her with a grateful noise. His throat  _ burns _ , but a few long swallows of water help.

She doesn't look good (he's one to talk), her face and headtails raw and burnt, her arms too, and he closes his eyes and reaches for her montrals, slips his fingers over some of the smooth, unmarred skin, apologetic. He wants to get them home again, he wants his family and his armor and a normal campaign, even.

~~~

Ahsoka tilts her head a little, into Rex’s hand, swallows and tries to pretend this is all  _ fine, _ that this doesn’t  _ hurt, _ that she’s  _ okay _ and they’re all okay. It’s not and it does and she’s not and  _ they’re _ not, but at least they’re all alive (well--O-mer isn’t,  _ kriff, _ but the others, the rest of them). Still okay. Survival.

That’s what they’re doing. Surviving.

“My face hurts,” she admits, tiredly, after a moment. It  _ burns, _ hot and heavy and blistering, and she almost can’t  _ think _ through it all except that she  _ has to. _ And this is war and  _ we do what we must, _ so she pushes it all away, focuses only on the feel of Rex’s fingers against her montrals, gentle and soothing and warm. “Pretty bad.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, soft. “Try washing it?”

“I don’t want to waste the water,” she admits, though she does take the gourd from him and drink, the water simultaneously stinging and soothing her raw throat. But it’s a good idea. So she splashes a little into one palm, over her face, hissing--it  _ burns, _ but then the ache gets better, less, and she sighs. Takes another drink and says, “I don’t know--how to do this, Rex.”

“How to do what?” he asks, still soothing his hand over her montrals, calm and soft.

She sighs, half-closes her eyes. “I can command a fleet,” she whispers, “but I don’t--know how to save two scared  _ kids. _ I don’t know how to--help them, or how to even get  _ any _ of us out of here, and I--I have to. They need me, and you and I, we have to get back.” She swallows, hard. “I think--I think it’d destroy Anakin, if I didn’t come back.”

~~~

“You’ve helped them already,” Rex says, wearily. “You don’t have to  _ know how _ , Ahsoka, it’s just- adapting, and doing what you can, what you’ve learned from your training and experience.” He sighs. He’s told her his men need him, and that’s no less true now - but he hopes they learn not to. Hopes they’ll be alright, without him. They have to be. At least until he gets back. “General Skywalker would find a way to manage,” he says, quietly. “But he won’t have to, because we’re going to get back.”

That’s harder to believe, at the moment, but the sounds of the rain and the thunder are reassuring, certain. Ahsoka does still have vibroblades. He’s functional. The younglings aren’t too injured.

So it could be worse.

“What if we can’t, Rex?” she says, soft in a way that lodges in his chest. “What if I- can’t be enough?”

“I know you think you’re not a very good Jedi,” he says, quietly, shifting his fingers over her montrals, “But you’re enough, to me. And that won’t change even if we never get out of here.”

She sighs and tilts her head further into his hand, and he wishes he could help with the pain (grits his teeth against his own). Then she says, a barest whisper, soft, “I love you.”

Rex lets his hand go still on her montrals, isn’t sure if he suddenly wants to cry because of pain or, or her. He wants to answer her, he wants to tell her he loves her too, wants to sit with the storm outside and be safe for a moment and kiss her. It’s hard to remember why he can’t, why it was so important that he  _ not _ . She’s his ‘Soka, why can’t he just  _ have this? _ Because his  _ vode _ need him, sure, but they don’t have him  _ now _ . They will know how to do without him. Maybe it’s better that way anyway.

But whether they can do without him or not, he cannot lose  _ himself _ even for this. He can’t risk that, not for anything, because he has little enough as it is. He does not want even that taken away from him.

So he closes his eyes and swallows against tears and says, “I know,” soft and hurting.  _ I love you too _ .

She doesn’t say anything for a while, and he resumes tracing circles on her montrals, glances over at Jinx and Kalifa; they’ve fallen asleep leaning against each other, and he wants to sleep too. He wants pressure on his wrist, but it’s burnt, and he doesn’t want to stop tracing Ahsoka’s montrals.

He’s gotten a bit unfocused when she speaks, sounding confused. “How did you know I- think that? About not being a- a very good Jedi?”

Rex blinks, confused. “I don’t… You told me once, I remember-”  _ Oh.  _ She had told him. She told him that after Mortis. When he was supposed to be asleep. When she said she’d fallen in love with him and kissed him. “It came up one time.”  _ Force _ he hopes she doesn’t remember when she said that.

~~~

Ahsoka frowns, tilting her head so Rex can more easily continue tracing her montrals, trying to remember. When had she  _ ever _ mentioned it? The fact that she’s not a very good Jedi, that  _ no one _ wanted her, is one of the things she keeps close to her chest, where no one else can see it; it wouldn’t just  _ come up _ in a conversation. In fact…

“The only time I-- _ shit,” _ she swears, a bit too loud, as the dots finally connect.

Mortis.

_ I should’ve known I’d fall in love with you. _

“Kriffing--” she starts, softer, some kind of horror dawning in her voice, “you were  _ awake? _ Aw,  _ hells, _ I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Rex says, and she glances over, sees he’s grimacing. “Um--I’m sorry?”

She can’t help a slightly hysterical laugh, shaking her head and looking away again. “Don’t apologize, that’s-- _ Force, _ this is why I need to learn when to shut up.”

“I don’t exactly blame you,” he says awkwardly. “I’m… pretty convincing.”

_ Force. _ “Anakin would laugh. So much,” she mumbles, goes to run a hand over her face and then hisses, because it  _ burns, _ right, don’t do that. “He’d be teasing me about this for  _ years.” _ Hells, she’s an idiot. (She tries not to think about the fact that he’d  _ known, _ and he’d left anyway, pulled away anyway. His men are more important, remember that. Friends.)

“Well, we don’t have to tell him,” Rex says, and she snorts.

“He’d laugh at you too. Except he’s mad--”  _ kriff _ she’s not supposed to tell him that. “Um. Never mind?”

“He’s mad at me, right?”

Ahsoka nods, wincing. “Yeah, I--after… you left, I… went to him. And told him. Everything. And I think he’s--well, he got really angry. Because I--” but no, she doesn’t want to tell him that. Except the words slip out without her meaning to let them. “Because I was crying.”

She winces again, looks down at her bare foot, sighs. Kriff this whole  _ kriffing _ thing.

~~~

Rex had noticed his General seemed upset at him, before their campaign on Felucia. He’d had his own thoughts on why, but hadn’t addressed it or asked. He’s not very surprised by Ahsoka’s revelation, although it still stings. What she means is that General Skywalker was angry because he  _ hurt her _ . He sighs, rubs his forehead with his free hand, and trails the other down her back headtail, careful of the smaller burns and scrapes there.

“Well,” he says, awkwardly, “I’m guessing he’s not very mad at me now.” Unless his General blames him for not keeping Ahsoka safe, which… honestly doesn’t exactly sound like General Skywalker. More likely, Skywalker thinks it’s his own fault.

She sighs, says bitterly (and worried, he thinks), “I wish I knew.”

“We’ll get back and figure it out,” Rex says, leaning his head against hers with a slow sigh. His leg still  _ burns _ , but he’s tired enough he’s beginning to not even care. “You need sleep,  _ aden’tra _ .  _ I _ need sleep.”

Ahsoka nods, jostling his head a little, and he leans away with a huff of annoyance. “Can you- Can you stay with me?”

Rex smiles a little, lays down and rests his head on his arm. “Well, I wasn’t going to try to go lay down with Jinx and Kalifa,” he snorts. To his surprise, and confusion, Ahsoka pokes him in the ribs, hard, and he scoots back, frowning at her. She just stabs him again a couple times until he grumbles and twists his side away from her to lay on his back - oh, kriff, he’s still got his other side open to her dumb stabbing, only she stops poking him and lays down, settles her head on his chest and her arms around his middle. “You could have just  _ asked _ ,” Rex mutters, but he puts his arms around her anyway, careful, and she grumbles and snuggles closer to him.

Everything still  _ hurts _ , and when he thinks about tomorrow, about being hunted again, it sends him careening towards panic and makes all his burns and wounds feel worse, so he drags his focus back to now, to the Jedi cradled against his chest, and tries to just breathe.

It’s not easy. None of this is. But at least it’s  _ enough _ , right now.

~~~

Ahsoka wakes up slowly, yawning.

Yawning, as it turns out, is a  _ mistake. _

The skin on her face  _ cracks, _ painfully, and she makes a small noise and tucks her face back against--Rex’s chest? Right. She  _ hurts, _ all over, and she doesn’t wanna  _ move. _

“Come on, Ahsoka,” Rex says softly, “time to get up.”

“Don’t wanna,” she rasps, hoarse, keeping her eyes squeezed close. “Hurts.”

“I know, but we need to be ready to move.”

Moving sounds like an  _ awful _ idea. “It  _ hurts,” _ she repeats, a little more clearly. Just laying  _ still _ is difficult enough, she thinks  _ moving _ would be--hard. Hurting. No.

Rex nudges her shoulder, lightly. “Okay,” he says, gently, “but can you at least get off me? I’m sore too.”

Ahsoka huffs out a little breath, unwinds her arm from around his stomach and finds the floor, levers herself off him and curls back up right next to him, tucking her head as close to his side as she can get without bumping the burns all over her face. “I wanna sleep,” she complains, her voice catching in her throat.

“Yeah, I know,” he says, “but we can’t. Not if we wanna get home.” A pause, then, “Come on, Ahsoka.”

_ Ugh. _ She  _ hurts. _

Reluctantly, Ahsoka cracks open her eyes, blinking in the bright sunlight, and grumbles. “Ow. I don’t  _ like _ burns, I don’t think.” She’s been injured plenty of times, but usually she can just--ignore them. This, though, this is like that time when she’d made that bet with Fives, after a  _ really _ long campaign when they’d all been drunk on sleep deprivation--something about turning herself blue like in Hero With No Fear. She’d woken up the next day covered in dried 501st-blue paint, and when she’d moved it’d cracked and stretched and not-quite-hurt. Except it’s  _ worse, _ because it’s not  _ paint _ that’s cracking, it’s her  _ skin. _

Kalifa and Jinx are eating, and they both look sore and exhausted too; Ahsoka groans and props herself up on her elbow, then pushes herself to sit up, blinking away spots.  _ “Kriff,” _ she says, feelingly.

~~~

They take enough time to eat, this morning, and drink the rest of their water, because they can’t hear the hunters. Kalifa informs them, as if she had forgotten up until now, that a new ship full of victims is going to be dropped today, so it’s unlikely that today will be a hunting day.

Which means respite, some measure of safety.

Rex doesn’t want to leave the tree, though, he finds; it’s bright out, but all he can think about is those creatures in the mist, the mist itself, everything dark and burning and  _ unknown _ \- but the sun is bright.

So no creatures, apparently.

“We have to go get more water,” Jinx says, and he sounds unfathomably tired. “And probably food.”

“I think…” Ahsoka is more awake now, at least, since eating and having water, but Rex is worried about her anyway. “You said there’s a prisoner drop today?”

“Yeah.”

“Like the one that brought us here?”

“Yeah.”

Rex knows her, can tell she’s running over possibilities in her head; he privately makes a bet with himself on what sort of plan she’s going to suggest. He debates a second between her wanting to commandeer the ship or just rescue the prisoners - but he knows her, and her Master. His money’s on trying to steal the entire ship. “What if we could take that ship? Use it to get out of here, find his armor and  _ my lightsabers _ ,” Rex should make this harder for himself, he really should - if he was betting Fives he’d be  _ rich _ \- “and get the  _ hells _ out of here. Bring back the battalion and burn this place down.”

That too. Probably. Rex nods, tries not to smirk because this isn’t really the best time. And he’s not sure this is an  _ achievable _ feat. “Could work, sir,” he says. “Although they're fairly big transports.”

“So we scout them out,” she says, shrugging one shoulder. “See how many hostiles there are, what weapons. We weren't really paying attention last time.”

That's true. And it's the best option they have right now, as far as Rex can tell, for actually leaving.

“So we resupply,” he says, confirming, “Go down by the beach, wait for the drop-off.”

“Right,” she says, meets his eyes, and he nods a little.

This is a good idea, a good start. She knows that, and she can do this.

Then she turns to the younglings, and Rex leans back, realizes they may have to do this on their own. After O-mer’s death, and the disaster that was the night before, the younglings may not want to help them anymore. “You don't have to come with us,” Ahsoka tells them. “After we get food and water, if you want, you could- just come back here.”

Kalifa and Jinx exchange meaningful looks, and Kalifa looks angry and determined when she answers. “They killed O-mer. So they need to pay.”

Good enough. Rex gets to his feet (and his leg nearly gives out, he's going to have to be  _ careful _ , today,  _ kriff _ ), salutes a little lazily at Ahsoka. “Lead the way then, sir,” he says. She smiles tightly at him.

And Jinx says, “Hang on. I'm confused. Did you guys know each other before this or are you friends or just in the army together, or…?” He gestures, irritated. “One minute it's ‘Ahsoka' and the next it's ‘sir' and I don't get it.”

Kalifa rolls her eyes, mutters under her breath. And Rex studiously does not look at Ahsoka, shrugs, says, “She's my Commander, and my friend. When she's pulling rank, it's Commander.” Other times, too, but when he needs her to know he trusts her - then  _ Commander _ and  _ sir _ seem the most appropriate.

“Friends, huh?” Kalifa says dryly, and Rex does not particularly like the look on her face. Like she's calling his banthashit. Which it isn't  _ exactly _ shit, but still, it disconcerts him that she thinks  _ any _ of it's shit.

He shrugs awkwardly. “Yeah. For three years.” It's not so long, by some measures. But it's been three years of war, three years of what is still his short life. “Now, we need to move.”

~~~

It’s far later than usual, by the time they  _ actually _ make it out of the hollow; Ahsoka follows behind a limping Kalifa as they troop wearily down the branch, towards the ground. Jinx is behind her, and Rex covering their flank with his dagger--Ahsoka has her new vibroblades in her belt again, though using them is going to  _ hurt, _ having to curl her burned hands around the hilts. She can do it, though.

She has to.

They spend most of the rest of the morning foraging, filling the baskets and the water gourds, until Kalifa says, abruptly, “If we want to get a chance at the ship, we need to go. Jinx and I will take the food and water back, you go scout, and we’ll meet you.”

Ahsoka nods, motions at Rex, and they split off from the younglings, walking towards the beach area. She can’t help stealing sidelong glances at him as they walk; the sunlight turns his hair golden-warm and makes his eyes glow, filters through and catches on his eyelashes (which are  _ ridiculously _ long and pretty and  _ shit _ she’s staring again). And it’s  _ unfair, _ she decides, that blacks are so-- _ tight, _ the  _ kriff, _ how is she supposed to  _ not _ stare when she can see literally  _ every curve _ of  _ every muscle. _

And  _ Force, _ he has a lot of muscles.

It’s distinctly  _ unfair. _

Ahsoka grumbles to herself, does her best to keep her eyes forward, on the path through the woods, and her brain on the action to come, and she tries to ignore the sneaking suspicion that she’s not the only one stealing little glances.

~~~

Rex tries, very hard, to focus on just walking quiet and determined through the woods next to Ahsoka, except that when he focuses on the walking (limping, really), it just  _ hurts _ more, and between that and the sunlight and Ahsoka next to him, he really doesn’t see the point in trying not to look at her.

Although it’s much harder to keep her from noticing when he doesn’t have his helmet. So he just watches her out of the corner of his eye, the arch of her cheekbone made sharper by her silver-white markings (so curious, he loves the shapes), the determined set to her jaw, sharp as the vibroblades on her belt. He’s been calling her  _ lightning _ (not entirely on purpose), and watching her fight reminds him  _ why _ \- she looks slight, but then she  _ moves  _ all liquid, whipcord muscle and condensed power, and it might be that that first had him staring. Now it’s that, still, but also the ocean-brightness of her eyes and the curve of her spine and the defined muscles of her shoulders (and all the hidden reserves of strength that are part Force, part  _ her _ ).

Mostly her eyes and smile, these days.

His Jedi is- she is  _ herself _ .

So it’s hard not to stare.

Eventually, though, it really is time to  _ focus _ , because they’re nearing the beach, and they’ll be too close to exposure, to the hunters, so he tears his eyes away from her and her nice legs and everything else and focuses on being as quiet as he can on an injured leg (not easy, to be stealthy when you’re limping). “We have to have an escape plan. In case they find us, by the beach, we have to be able to get away.”

“Run like hells?” Ahsoka says, and she’s only half-kidding.

Rex gestures bitterly at his leg, with the gouges in his shin and blistered skin and says, “I wouldn’t be great at that today. Not for long.”

Ahsoka nods. “We’ll worry about that once we’re in position.”

Fair enough.

They follow the edge of the woods for a bit along the beach until they find a sheltered, stony area and crouch down, settle into ready positions. Rex stretches his leg out, checks the makeshift bandages he made from his pant legs. (He’d cut his blacks off at the knees. Not comfortable with his boots and not the most dignified, but it was that or leave his cuts and burns exposed, which would be hell. As it is, it isn’t exactly  _ fun _ .)

“Taking that prisoner ship won’t be easy,” he observes, tiredly. “If we try to fight, they could just threaten the prisoners. Not to mention that big-ass blaster cannon. We have to be able to avoid that.” At least blaster cannons aren’t exactly  _ difficult _ to avoid.

~~~

Ahsoka nods, considering. “You see those rocks over there?” she asks, gesturing at a series of spines that look almost like claws of stone in the ground. “If I time it right, I can run up one of those and jump onto the ship. Should be able to get you up there with me, if the timing’s good.”

Rex grimaces a little. “I  _ still _ hate heights,” he mutters under his breath, and she snorts. “Once we’re on the ship, what then?”

Ahsoka closes her eyes, picturing the transport ship they’d arrived in, the details--she’d memorized it, even while running away, knowing it’d come in useful at some stage. “There’s probably a hatch on top, of some sort,” she says, and Rex hums agreement. “We get in through there. Take the ship. Take out the pilots, keep the ship intact, and I can fly us home, get the battalion. If we’re lucky, the ship’ll have a working transmitter, maybe we can get off a distress signal.” She opens her eyes, looks over at him.

“That could work,” he says, slowly, nodding, thoughtful. “We’d have to be quick, but with four of us…”

“Kalifa and Jinx are injured,” she says. “Jinx got a tooth or a claw or something in his lek, and Kalifa’s ribs.”

“Okay,” he says, grimaces a little. “Still doable.”

As long as they get the timing right. 

Kalifa and Jinx show back up not long after, slipping through the trees to meet up with her and Rex, and Ahsoka tells them the plan quietly.

They agree it’s dangerous, but it’s also the only shot they have.

So now it’s just a matter of waiting, for the ship to arrive.

~~~

With nothing to do but wait, compartmentalizing is hard. Rex still aches and burns, his throat and arm and leg, and the rest of his exposed skin feels like a bad sunburn. But it will all be manageable, if he just  _ focuses _ .

He manages to get most of the pain under control by the time Jinx says “There,” and the transport ship descends with a rumble of ancient engines over the shallows, gusting the waves into white foam. They all push to their feet (and Rex ignores the resulting stab of pain), Ahsoka looking back and nodding at him, once.

Then they file out fast and light, close to the spines of rock that Ahsoka had pointed out earlier, stay pressed close behind them until the ship comes in over the beach, dusting up sand and debris, preparing to land. Then Ahsoka makes a simple, self-explanatory hand signal, and starts shimmying up one of the spires of rock. Rex grits his teeth and does the same, ignores the way it scrapes his skin, and when his foot slips it jolts his injured leg against the rough stone. But that has to not matter so he hurries the rest of the way up to balance for a second, meet Ahsoka's eyes. The younglings nod to say they're ready, and Ahsoka twists around, looks at the ship and the distance, and then waves her hand and jumps, lands so, so light on top of the ship. Then she makes a claw with her hand and  _ pulls _ , and Rex  _ swears _ in his head because he hates when they do this, his Jedi need to stop throwing him around like a bag of scrap parts, thanks, and the beach is under him and he does his best not to flail like a drowning loth-cat and then Ahsoka’s settling him carefully on the ship next to her.

“I  _ hate doing that _ ,” Rex hisses, taking his weight off his bad leg for a moment. The younglings land next to him, and he looks away from them because they are  _ definitely  _ trying not to laugh at him.

Ahsoka smirks and shrugs, then draws both vibroblades and heads for the hatch in the top of the ship.

~~~

The hatch opens before Ahsoka can get to it, and she jerks back, vibroblades out; the Trandoshan who emerges has no weapon, though, and she tosses a smirk and a wink over her shoulder at Rex, says, “I’m confident you can handle this,” and then ducks to the side. Jinx engages the hunter right away, and she gives them a moment, watching, before she drops down into the cockpit. The pilot (a blaster on the back of his seat) hasn’t noticed her yet, and she shifts into a low crouch, her vibroblades out, slinking through the area.

The Force is thick against her skin, ready,  _ not yet, not yet, not yet-- _ **_now!_ **

The Trandoshan leaps up, pulls his blaster and fires, and it’s easy, easy, jerk the barrel this way, that way, except he’s firing into the ship’s controls and she  _ really _ wants to steal the dumb thing. Please. Don’t blow it up before she can steal it, that’s not  _ polite. _

At least he’s shooting some kind of electrical surge, which won’t kill her if it hits, and won’t rebound off the walls and kill her. She thinks. The whole  _ won’t kill her _ bit is up for discussion, and she isn’t really all that eager to find  _ out. _ So she dodges the blasts and lunges for him and he must realize he’s pinned down, because he turns the blaster around and fires  _ into the controls, _ and no no no  _ why would you do that, _ the big  _ dumbass!  _ That’ll disable the ship and blow  _ everyone _ to pieces,  _ why the kriff-- _

She decides to worry about his  _ idiocy _ later, instead flips over the railings in the center of the cockpit and lands with her feet on the center of his chest, pinning him to the instrument board, and stabs the shorter of her two vibroblades through his chest. Damn  _ idiot _ Trandoshans.

She backflips off him, lands on her feet (and  _ ow, _ she should be more careful), jams the vibroblade back into her belt and heaves the Trandoshan to the floor, frowning at the panel. The ship is likely beyond saving--it’s overheating, and there’s critical failure alerts beeping at her--but  _ there. _ A long-range comm. She presses a few buttons, reroutes power from the stabilizers (because the ship’s going down anyway), and keys in the encrypted frequency she’s had memorized for  _ years, _ now, ever since she was just an Initiate running high-priority messages back and forth. Direct line to the Council, highly encoded, for use only in emergencies.

She thinks this counts as an emergency. 

She doesn’t have time to figure out how to blip the right patterns on this unfamiliar setup, so she just fumbles with one hand for the prisoner release (at least this way if they get out fast enough they won’t get killed), holds the comm down with her other hand, says, all in a rush, “This is Ahsoka Tano. I’m being held prisoner by Trandoshan sport-hunters, along with Captain Rex and a couple younglings. We’ve been trying to fight our way out and back, but it’s proven difficult without weapons or even knowing where in the galaxy we are--if you can trace this message,  _ please--” _

There’s knocking on the window. Jinx. “Ahsoka,” he calls, loudly, through the glass, “you need to get out of there!”

_ Kriff. _ She swears under her breath, shouts back, “I  _ know,  _ I haven’t survived this long just to blow myself up,” and turns her attention back to the comm. Which is still broadcasting, and caught all of that.  _ Hells. _ “Anyway, please let Master Skywalker know we’re alive--” and something electric-hot crackles over her hand, and she swears again. “And this ship’s about to blow up. Don’t tell him  _ that _ part, he’ll just make fun of me for it later. Ahsoka Tano out.”

She lets go of the switch, grabs the dead Trandoshan’s blaster and uses it to punch through the glass, and jumps out, hissing as the shards of glass cut her foot (she’s gonna have to wrap that up, she’s already pushing it by running around on scratches and splinters); Jinx and Kalifa and Rex are all there, waiting, and she nods at the younglings, fits an arm around Rex’s chest, under his arm.

“Hang on,” she says sharply, and then she clings tight to the Force and jumps off, shifts as they land so that most of Rex’s weight lands on  _ her _ and not on his injured leg. Which  _ ow, _ hurts, her ankle  _ twists _ and pain stabs hot and biting up through her shin, but at least Rex is off his leg.

The message has been sent. She can only hope it reaches its destination.

~~~

Rex pulls away from Ahsoka nearly as soon as they land so he's not leaning on her anymore, biting back a reprimand - she is still his Commander. But that doesn't mean he has to like it. He's not great, sure, but he can support himself.

They scramble a bit further down the beach and Ahsoka claps her hands over her montrals as, with a shrieking groan, the ship lists and plummets into the sand, the engines wheezing high-pitched a moment before coughing into a series of explosions, and the ship crumples on itself, fire blossoming from the engines and hold.

If any of the prisoners survived, it will have been a narrow thing - but they have to check. So they wait a moment to see if anything else is going to explode, if anyone will move, and then Ahsoka nods at Rex and they start careful toward the burning ship.

“I sent a comm,” she says quietly. “To the Council. It was the emergency channel, they should have gotten it.”

_ Thank the Force _ . That means… that means help is coming. That means they're going to get out, they're going to  _ leave _ . Rex can get back to his  _ vode _ , to the rest of his  _ aliit _ . “Good,” he says, sighing slowly. They just have to stay safe and hidden until the Republic sends help, and he knows they can do that. They've survived this long - they can make it another day, another few hours.

Something moves in the wreckage, and his focus shifts sharp to that point, all four of them stopping in their tracks. There's a clatter of metal on metal, and then a sandy, furry figure sways upright, makes a disgruntled, growling noise. Definitely not a Trandoshan, then.

“It's a Wookiee,” Ahsoka says, quietly, sounds very surprised.

They edge closer, and the Wookiee dusts itself (himself?) off and marches through the sand towards them like someone who wants  _ answers _ \- which is reasonable, Rex figures.

Ahsoka holds up her hands in a  _ look I'm harmless _ gesture, as he gets closer and stops, and she smiles. “Hey, we're friends.”

The Wookiee says something in his barking roar of a language, and Rex straightens his shoulders defensively, although he  _ thinks _ the Wookiee sounds more confused than confrontational. He really doesn't know, though - he hasn't made a hobby of hanging around Wookiees.

“I'm Ahsoka Tano,” she says, smoothly. “And this Captain Rex and Kalifa and Jinx.”

The Wookiee answers, and Ahsoka turns to Rex. “He says his name is Chewbacca.”

Rex inclines his head politely. It's generally considered wise not to antagonize Wookiees, and looking at the size of Chewbacca, Rex gets it. “Nice to meet you,” he says, glancing over his shoulder. “We gotta get off the beach, Ahsoka, we're too exposed.”

“I know.” She looks back at Chewbacca, smiles again. “You should come with us, Chewbacca. The Republic is gonna send ships to pick us up soon.”

The Wookiee barks what is definitely agreement and grins. At least, Rex thinks it's a grin. Chewbacca has sharp teeth, it's hard to know if he's exactly  _ happy _ or if he's snarling.

Should be fun.

~~~

It’s while they’re making their slow, limping way back from the beach towards their hollow that Chewbacca growls out a phrase in Shyriiwook, waving at Ahsoka’s face, Rex’s leg, her arms. Ahsoka frowns, trying to parse out the meaning--she’d learned Shyriiwook from a holo program as a youngling, because ‘advanced languages’ was a better elective alternative than most others, but it’s been a few years and there’s a difference between a holo and an actual  _ native speaker. _ The Wookiee’s saying something about  _ medicinal plants, _ and she frowns, says, “You know plants that will help with the burns?”

_ “Yes,” _ Chewbacca growls, and she smiles in relief--anything will help.  _ “I will show you, if you come with me.” _

Ahsoka turns to Kalifa, says, “Chewbacca says he’ll show us some plants that’ll help the chemical burns if we go with him.”

Kalifa cocks her head to one side, frowning. “You and Rex should go back to the shelter,” she says, after a moment, “and Jinx and I will go with… Chewbacca. You two need to rest your legs.”

It’s true. Just the reminder of her injuries sends pain flaring sharp and spitting from the burn on her calf, from her sprained ankle, from the cuts and bruises on the sole of her bare foot. “That’s probably smart,” she agrees, raspy, and swallows. “Come on, Rex, let’s go.”

Rex follows her, silently, as she jumps tiredly up onto a branch, starts the familiar path back to the hollow, the sunlight warm and liquid and soothing down the sore muscles of her back, her shoulders. It’s nice, she thinks--there’s no hunters out, the Republic will be  _ coming, _ her Master is coming, she just has to stay alive, until tomorrow afternoon at the latest. They’ll get here. They’ll come. And Chewbacca is going to bring back plants to put on their burns, to help, and they’re going to be alright.

The walk back to the hollow seems short, and for the first time Ahsoka almost wishes it was longer.

But sinking down to sit on the floor feels  _ good, _ and she gingerly lays down on her back, sighing. “One more day, Rex,” she says quietly, smiling softly up at him. “Then we’ll be  _ away from here.” _

~~~

Rex eases down to sit next to Ahsoka, stretches out his injured leg with a hiss and a wince. “Can’t wait,” he grunts, reaching for one of the water gourds they’d refilled this morning. “Hate this kriffing stupid ball of dirt.” He gulps a huge mouthful, wipes his chin and plunks the gourd on the floor.

“Me too,” she says emphatically, scoots closer to him like a caterpillar. Burnt and injured and exhausted or no, she’s adorable.

He wonders what happened, while they were gone. He’s sure everyone’s fine, it hasn’t been that long, but they’ve still been away from everyone who needs them, who they love, without any contact. He hopes they weren’t too worried, but then  _ no contact _ . For… for how long has it been? For  _ five days _ .

“I’m not going to get my armor back,” he says, tiredly. Which shouldn’t matter. The Republic is picking them up, getting them  _ out of here _ , and that’s  _ more _ than good enough. But he’d modified that armor himself, his blasters had been  _ gifts _ , the best damn blasters in his battalion, in  _ many _ battalions, he’s sure. And then there’s his bracer and vibroblade, gifts from Cody.

“We’ll get it back, I promise,” Ahsoka says, poking the side of his leg and then resting her forehead against the outside of his knee. “And… and Cody’s bracer.”

Rex settles his hand on her montrals, swoops his fingers along the dip between them. “Thanks, Ahsoka,” he says gently. She snuggles closer to him, and he sighs and shakes his head. “I know that can be replaced,” he says softly. “We can exchange armor again, I can get a new vibroblade. But it was… They were important to me.” The vibroblade will be hardest to replace, in a way. Because of when Cody gave it to him, because of the new jaig eyes in their bright blue paint.

“We  _ will _ get it back, Rex,” she insists, and he stills his hand comfortable on her head.

“Sure, sir,” he says.

“I  _ promise _ .” She shifts, meets his eyes, intent, and he can't look away. “I'll get them back.”

“Okay.” He smiles, blinks, leans back a little but leaves his hand on her montrals.

“Can I do some healing on your leg?” she asks, poking him in the right leg again.

“Ahsoka…” he says, chiding.

She sighs. “Please? I'll be careful, I promise.” He raises a dubious eyebrow at her. She is not the best at being  _ careful _ . “You're just- You're  _ hurting _ , and I don't… I don't like seeing you in pain.”

That warms his chest a little, but he just snorts and says, “I don't like  _ being _ in pain much, either.” He hesitates, then shakes his head. “Fine. A  _ little _ , Ahsoka.”

She grins at him, sunshine-bright, and then her expression morphs into annoyance as she pushes herself slowly upright. He swirls his fingers over her montrals and then pulls his hand away, settles it on the ground, much to her  _ evident _ displeasure. She grumbles at him, but scoots over and closes her eyes, lips pursed in concentration. He smiles at her a little, then bites back a sigh as some of the burning in his shin and knee eases. Force healing always feels  _ odd _ , but he doesn't even mind this time, because it  _ helps _ .

She doesn't open her eyes again until the slashes themselves don't look so red and swollen (her eyelashes are dark and curled against her cheek), and he checks over her face to make sure she hasn't worn herself out. He doesn't like the burns on her face,  _ hates _ the ones on her headtails. She looks more tired than he wishes she did, and if he were Kix he'd push her down on the floor and make her go to sleep. She meets his eyes for a second, then looks down and says, “Can I sleep for a bit, Rex?”

_ If you don't, I'll make you.  _ “I think you'd better, sir.” He bends his leg a little, testing it. Better. Not great, but better. Not burning so much. “Thanks for the healing.”

~~~

Ahsoka yawns (and winces, because  _ ow) _ and sighs, hums, “You’re welcome,” and slowly lays herself back down. Everything  _ hurts _ and the wood floor of their hollow isn’t  _ comfy _ on her headtails and she doesn’t want to lay down on it, doesn’t want Rex to go away.

So instead, she lowers herself onto her elbow, carefully, and then shifts so she can curl up against his right leg (the less-injured one) and rest her head in his lap. She curls her right hand over his thigh, light, closes her eyes and huffs out a soft breath, relaxing into the floor--even if it’s  _ uncomfy. _ Rex is much more comfy than the floor.

Rex chuckles softly and sets a hand on her shoulder, gentle but solid, and she hums tunelessly, murmurs, “You make a good pillow, Rexter.”

“I try my best,” he says wryly, and she snorts. Would roll her eyes if she wasn’t so  _ tired. _

“‘Cept for when you won’t cuddle,” she grumbles, and then she realizes what she’s said and mumbles a few choice Huttese phrases under her breath. “Never mind. ‘M tired, don’t listen to me.”

Rex pulls his hand away from her shoulders (and  _ kriff it, _ that was too much, then), says, snorting, “Well, if you’re gonna be like that, then.”

Oh. So maybe… not too far?  _ “Rex,” _ she whines, grumbly, pokes his leg where she’s curled her hand over the muscle. “Don’t be  _ dumb.” _ She wants his hand back, damn it.

“I’m never  _ dumb, _ Ahsoka,” and he pokes her shoulder. Not hard, but still. She’s sore.

But whatever. “Well, you’re doing a pretty good job of breaking that streak right now,” she mutters churlishly, and yawns, wide (which  _ hurts, _ kriff it). Runs her thumb in little lines and swirls and circles over his thigh, hums and curls a bit closer to his leg. “Kix’s gonna shoot me,” she mumbles, huffs out a sleepy breath. Mimics Kix’s voice.  _ “Commander, what the kriff were you thinking? _ I bet you he’s gonna threaten to lock me in a room somewhere. Or something. You too, probably.”

Predictably, Rex grumbles at that. “He can  _ try. _ It’s not my fault.”

She giggles, amused. “‘S not my fault either, but he never  _ believes _ me when I tell him that.” Which is  _ so dumb. _ Honestly. Okay, so, maybe she shouldn’t have run off to Lola Soyu before being cleared, but--it wasn’t  _ her fault _ she had a broken leg, it just happened! And she didn’t  _ know _ she was gonna be  _ climbing a cliff _ when she assigned herself to the mission, the kriff. So it’s not her fault. Really.

~~~

Ahsoka trying to imitate Kix’s voice is funnier than Rex would care to admit (he can’t have her getting a big head about it). He grumbles, sets his hand back on her shoulder. “Sir, you can’t say it’s  _ never _ your fault. Maybe not this time, but still.”

She grumbles a little, pressing her face harder against his leg. “‘S not like I do it on purpose. Just  _ happens _ .”

“Maybe if you were more  _ careful _ . Or wore some  _ armor _ , for kriff’s sake. Even General Kenobi wears proper bracers.” Used to wear a tabard, too, but as Cody had put it,  _ he apparently thinks that’s ‘too limiting.’ A tabard, Rex. _

“I wear proper bracers  _ too _ ,” she huffs, pouting.

“I meant  _ plastoid _ ones. Real armor, Ahsoka. Yours are just leather.” He soothes his hand over her shoulder a couple times, steady.

“Well they look cooler,” she argues, and he interjects his opinion  _ vehemently _ .

“ _Haar’chak_ , you _besom_ , it’s- they _look cooler?_ _Gar mir’osikla di’kut_. That’s _not what armor is for_.” She can’t be _serious_. _Karking Jedi_.

Ahsoka  _ perks up _ . Which is not the point. He shouldn’t use Mando’a when he’s mad, it interests her too much. “Oooh, are you swearing at me? What’s it mean, I wanna yell at Anakin in Mando’a.”

“He’s already mad at me, Ahsoka. I don’t want him knowing I taught you how to insult him in a language he doesn’t know. But it means you’re an  _ idiot _ , and you have  _ shit for brains _ , sometimes.”

She grins. “Cool!”

No, that’s not  _ cool _ . That’s a rude,  _ crushing _ insult. And now she’s probably going to tell Fives he’s  _ mir’osikla _ and then Rex is going to have to explain how she knows because Fives is gonna be pissed.

In fairness, Fives has taught her how to say worse things with no context.

“It’s  _ rude _ , Commander.” Technically, not something he ever should have called her. But armor is not for looking  _ cool _ . It’s for  _ not dying _ .

“Even  _ better _ . Now I can yell at Fives.” She drops her face back against his leg, still grinning. Kriff.

“Do  _ not _ say  _ any _ of those words to Fives,” Rex grumbles, rubbing his face. “Except  _ di’kut _ . He deserves that one.”

She hums, snuggles closer. “Whatever you say, Captain,” and she closes her eyes, sighs deeply.

He gets the feeling she might not be going to listen to him.

He’s not very tired himself (or he is, but not enough to sleep), so he leaves his hand on her shoulder and leans on his other hand, stares out through the trees, half-listening for the sound of  _ danger _ . So close. So close to being able to go  _ home _ . And Ahsoka says she’ll get his armor back - however she expects to be able to do that, he finds himself believing her.

Sighing, he glances down at her again; her breathing’s gone soft and slow, her face relaxed, and she’s snoring just a little. He huffs a little almost-laugh, shakes his head, eyes the curve of her lashes again. It’s good she’s sleeping. She’s been using too much energy - and a lot of that on him. And those burns on her face are from her saving him. He’s not sure if he feels guilty about that, it’s just a fact.

Careful, so, so, light, he traces one finger around the edge of the burns, on the unhurt skin, sighs to himself and tilts his head, considering. He brushes her lashes a little, because he wants to, and they’re cute. Then he settles his fingers over her cheekbone, leaves them there, skimming over warm skin and her markings, which have turned a bit grey from dust and dirt. They’re both  _ disasters _ , he thinks, a little wryly. She’s right, Kix is going to be horrified.

He settles more comfortably, careful not to jostle her, and shifts his hand back to rest on her back headtail, because the texture is still  _ fascinating _ and she has less injuries there, so he can trace her blue chevrons without worrying so much about brushing up against a burn. She’s humming a little, with her breathing, kind of a raspy sound that could be a snore or could be a noise of contentment, he isn’t sure. It’s cute, either way.

“Oh, ‘Soka,” he says, very quiet and fond, trying not to laugh a little at her. Not that she would know.  _ (And this is what you would give up _ , something reminds him, and he pushes that away.) This is not a complicated thing. This is just closeness, for the moment, and he’s not going to deny himself this small, simple thing.

~~~

Everything is warm, fuzzy and soft and slow, and Ahsoka  _ floats, _ here, on the edges of sleep. She’s  _ exhausted, _ she wants to let the blackness swallow her whole, but there’s a light touch on her face, fingers tracing the edges of her burns, settling warm and soft and comforting on her cheekbone, running along the lines of her markings. And it’s so soft, so  _ nice, _ and she doesn’t want it to stop, please. She hums low in her throat, an almost-purr of warm contentment and pleasure, floats light and happy along the currents of not-quite-sleep.

The fingers move, and for a moment she mourns their loss; but they just shift to her headtail, ghosting over her chevrons, and yes, that’s  _ nice, _ she likes that, she could stay here forever.

She knows, somehow, instinctively, who the fingers belong to, even before he speaks, low and quiet and affectionate: “Oh, ‘Soka,” and he sighs, and she nestles a bit closer on instinct. Her Rex. His fingers are soothing, calming, sending slow waves of peace and light (and Light) and warmth down all the way to her toes, and she hums again, sighs soft and sweet.

This is good.

(A part of her remembers she shouldn’t let herself enjoy this, because--there’s a reason. Some kind of reason, she thinks. But he is  _ hers, _ the other half of her heart, and he is  _ here, _ and it is good.)

So she hums again and tightens her fingers on his leg, just for a minute, and then she huffs out a breath and lets sleep fully take her--because fighting it, she decides, is too much  _ effort. _ He has her.

She’s safe.

~~~

Rex has more or less entirely zoned out by the time Chewbacca and Jinx and Kalifa haul themselves into the shelter, Chewbacca moving with a surprising amount of grace for someone so large and shaggy. Rex shakes himself a little, forces a smile at the younglings, who he thinks at least  _ trust _ him now - he’s not so sure if they like him still.

With the way Jinx is staring at him, maybe not.

Chewbacca stumps over and Rex tries grinning at him too. He can’t figure out the Wookiee’s  _ face _ . “Did you find what you were looking for?” he says.

“I think so,” Kalifa answers, coming over to them and plopping down to put her chin in her hands. “He grabbed a bunch of leaves and said something so I assumed that was a good sign.”

Chewbacca growls something that sounds like agreement.

Rex snorts, lifts his hand from Ahsoka’s headtail (and she shifts in her sleep, whines irritably), and shakes her shoulder a little. “Hey. Hey Ahsoka, can you wake up? I think Chewbacca brought medicine and you’re the only one who understands him.” He looks up, shrugs apologetically at Chewbacca. It wasn’t exactly the Kaminoans’ priority to teach them languages - actually, they’d been very determined that the clones speak nothing but Basic.

She grumbles, grabs on tighter to his leg, and shakes her head just a little. Helpful.

“Ahsoka,” he sighs. Disconcertingly, Chewbacca takes his handful of leaves and puts some of them in his  _ mouth _ and starts chewing. Rex was pretty sure those were supposed to be the medicinal ones. Well, he’s not going to question it. “Ahsoka, hey. Wake up.”

“‘m  _ tired _ ,” she informs him, muffled against his leg, and he rolls his eyes and shakes her again.

“For kriff’s sake,” he says, grumbling. “You’re impossible.”

She half-heartedly lifts a hand, smacks him in the leg.  _ Ow _ . “Yep, that’s me. Lemme go back t’ sleep.”

“Ahsoka, you’re the only one who understands Chewbacca,” he huffs. “And you need medicine as much as I do. Come on.”

Appearing to consider that for a moment, Ahsoka finally opens her eyes all the way, blinks, and tilts her head to look at him, then Chewbacca. “Oh, he’s back,” she grumbles, like that’s a bad thing. Which is patently ridiculous, because Chewbacca brought  _ medicine _ . But she doesn’t really look all that focused anyway, and Rex smiles. With a  _ very _ dramatic sigh, Ahsoka shifts off his lap and pushes herself to sit up - before promptly listing back against Rex’s chest.  _ Dork _ . “ _ Fine _ ,” she huffs. “‘m awake. Happy?”

“Yes,” Rex says, chuckling.

~~~

Ahsoka thinks she probably should be  _ pleased _ to see the Wookiee, but  _ really? _ She is  _ very tired _ and she was  _ comfy.  _ And he’s interrupting her  _ nap. _

Stupid.

Chewbacca comes over to her, spits out a pulpy mess of leaves into his--hand? paw? whatever it’s called, says,  _ “Can I put this on your burns?” _

“Rex needs it more,” she protests, halfheartedly, because her face  _ hurts _ and her headtails are  _ worse, _ in the few areas where they’re burned. But Rex’s whole  _ leg _ is awful, and--and Chewbacca doesn’t seem impressed. Instead, he looks at her for a moment, grumbles something she doesn’t know--probably a swear--and proceeds to ignore her completely, rubbing the poultice of sorts over the worst burns on her face. Which is--fine, if a little close, but then his  paw-hand-things shift towards her headtails and she can’t help it--she flinches.

“Wait,” Rex says, quickly. “Let me do it. Work on her arms instead.” Which is  _ dumb, _ her arms are fine, but she doesn’t want Chewbacca touching her headtails. Nope. Rex takes some of the leaf stuff, says quietly, “This okay?”

She nods, shifts away from Rex so that he can reach her better, rubbing the meds (if chewed-up leaves can be called  _ medicine) _ over the burned spots, while the Wookiee works on her arms, the backs of her hands, and  _ ow ow ow  _ it hurts. But the poultice soothes the rawness away almost immediately, and the sheer  _ relief  _ is enough she almost lets out a soft sob. But she restrains herself, to just a long sigh, tilts her head back against Rex’s chest and shoulder when he’s done.

She keeps the burn on her leg turned towards the floor, though, because there’s not very many leaves left and Rex’s legs are  _ bad, _ and she’ll just--if there’s any left, she’ll say something then. The others need it first, need it more. She’s fine.

(It still hurts like hells, all the worse when compared to the sweet, sweet relief and numbness, almost, the leaf gives the other burns.)

~~~

Ahsoka actually  _ feels _ far more relaxed, by the time Chewbacca and Rex both finish applying the leaves to her burns - Rex hadn’t realized how tense she’s been feeling until she’s  _ not _ anymore. She tilts her head against his collarbone, humming softly, and there’s a sharp, clean, fresh smell that Rex thinks is probably the leaves.

Chewbacca says something, almost gently, points at Rex’s legs, and Ahsoka mumbles, “You should take your boots off. And the bandages.”

Right. Makes sense. Rex leans forward a little (annoying Ahsoka), and tugs off his boots and starts unwinding the strips of fabric that have passed as wrapping.  _ Gods _ , it hurts.

Chewbacca goes quietly to work again with the chewed-up leaves, and for a moment Rex feels a little uncomfortable with the whole thing, and then-  _ little gods _ , that’s-  _ shit _ . He’d pushed the pain so tight down, into so small a point, that relief is almost  _ confusing _ . Like he’d forgotten he needed it. But now,  _ kriffing hells _ . He lets his head drop, for a second, lets out a slow, measured sigh.

So much better.

And the Republic’s coming, and Ahsoka is (oops) drifting off to sleep against him again, he thinks, and they have medicine of sorts and they at least managed to protect Kalifa and Jinx. Chewbacca finishes with his legs and spreads the medicine over his scratched arm, and Rex had almost forgotten what it felt like not to be hurting  _ everywhere _ . He curls his hand loose over Ahsoka’s headtail again, and Chewbacca gives him a  _ look  _ that Rex is pretty sure he understands. So he sighs, easing back to lay down and pulling Ahsoka with him. She hums, light, and twists around, wraps both arms around his chest and drops her face against the side of his neck. That still hurts, a little, but he doesn’t mind, because she’s close and curled around him and the pain in his neck is  _ nothing _ compared to the cool relief everywhere else.

Almost there. Almost home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MANDO'A TRANSLATIONS:
> 
> besom: ill-mannered/brutish/unhygienic person
> 
> Gar mir'osikla di'kut: You're a dung-brained idiot.


	8. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for violence and kinda torture in this chapter. pay heed to the tags.
> 
> (we promise things are gonna go mostly uphill from here, y'all)

Five full days.

Still no word.

Anakin is in the barracks with his men, pacing back and forth, trying to ignore the stupid excuse for a commander standing by the door, looking dispassionately on as the entire battalion sits, uncomfortable in their armor but unable to remove it without getting yelled at. Repeatedly. 

It’s the karking  _ dumbest _ thing.

Ahsoka would never do that, and Rex would never tolerate it, Anakin thinks, clenching his fists. He’s not even sure why he’s  _ here, _ except that he doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts and his guilt, and his men need him. Need  _ some _ kind of familiarity, in all this.

There’s a spike of  _ shock _ and almost- _ exultation _ across his training bond with Obi-Wan, and that’s just enough warning that he straightens, stares at the door with a frown on his face, before it bursts open and his Master hurries through. “Anakin!” he says, quickly, coming to a stop.

“Is something wrong, Master?” Anakin asks, frowning more. His Master doesn’t usually run like this without a  _ good cause. _

“No,” Obi-Wan gasps out, panting a bit, like he’s sprinted the whole way from the Temple. “Quite the contrary, in fact. We just received a transmission on the emergency frequencies.”

A pause, while he fumbles with his wristcomm. Anakin frowns, not quite understanding--okay, so what? A distress call, maybe--

_ “This is Ahsoka Tano. I’m being held prisoner by Trandoshan sport-hunters, along with Captain Rex and a couple younglings. We’ve been trying to fight our way out and back, but it’s proven difficult without weapons or even knowing where in the galaxy we are--if you can trace this message, please--” _ (and there’s a pause, and Anakin staggers back without thinking, finds the nearest bunk and collapses onto it, staring wide-eyed)  _ “--I know, I haven’t survived this long just to blow myself up! Anyway. Please let Master Skywalker know we’re alive--aaaand this ship’s about to blow up. Don’t tell him that part, he’ll just make fun of me for it later. Ahsoka Tano out.” _

Hells.

Anakin realizes his mouth is open and he’s just  _ staring, _ frozen, and it takes  _ too long _ but finally he rasps out, “She’s--alive?”

_ “Yes, _ Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, smiles brilliantly. “We were able to trace the signal, before it went dead, to a Trandoshan moon near Kashyyyk. Wasskah, it’s called. Master Plo, you, and myself have been dispatched to go get her and Rex and bring them home. And, hopefully, rid the galaxy of these  _ sport hunters _ along the way. I have to go prepare my battalion.”

And he’s gone, and Anakin’s left  _ staring, _ in awe and horror all mixed together, because  _ sport hunters? _ But she’s--they’re-- “I  _ knew it!” _ he crows, brightly, leaps to his feet. “Jesse, get the men ready to go. I’ve gotta--get something. Meet you in the hangar in under ten.”

“Yes, sir!” 

As he passes Commander Lareen, he can’t help shoot her a cocky smirk. “It seems your services are no longer needed, Commander. Now that my Padawan’s been found, after all, it looks like her spot isn’t open.”

He doesn’t wait for her response, just  _ sprints _ to the Temple, as fast as he can, winds through the halls to his room. Goes over to the box against the wall. She’d told him, just before Felucia, that her boots were getting too tight, and he’d  _ promised _ a new pair, after the mission. Had gotten them anyway, even though she was--not here. Because he’d promised.

He’s gonna keep that promise. So he pulls the boots out, almost reverently, cradles them close to his chest and runs for the hangar again. They  _ have to get there. _ Now. Yesterday. Before anything else can happen to her, while he’s not there to protect her.

~~~

General Kenobi’s meeting with the Jedi Council had given Cody time to catch up on some paperwork, mostly requisition forms for more sets of the relatively new Phase Two armor. Cody does not like the new armor much.

Rex had hated it. He’d spent  _ hours _ putting together his own mix of the two phases with a welding torch and a saw and a lot of caf. Cody thinks it was obsessive.

He sighs and signs a form, sends it off, moves on to the next. More armor. His battalion is mostly set with the new kit, and so is- the 501st, but there are still some new soldiers with the older armor. Rex would've grumbled that they should just let the shinies keep Phase One. Never mind that he wouldn't have- Cody scribbles a signature (CC-2224) on the form, shakes his head a little.

And his General bursts into the barracks with all the exuberant energy of a  _ puppy _ and hurries over to Cody,  _ grinning _ . Cody drags a smile from somewhere aching, thinks it's twisted and not right. “Sir,” he says.

General Kenobi drops down onto his  _ bunk _ and grabs his shoulder (what is  _ happening?) _ and with a still-wider smile says, “The Council just got a transmission, Cody. From Ahsoka. She says she and Rex are alive-” and there is more he says, but Cody cannot focus, suddenly.

_ Alive _ .

There had always been the possibility, of course, that they were both still alive - but Cody knows where the Generals expected to find them, if they were: Skywalker has been asking about slavers and crime syndicates, and Kenobi has talked about people who would have  _ uses _ for a Jedi. They had all given up hope -  _ hope! _ \- that it was a hostage situation on the third day. And truth be told, even if  _ Ahsoka _ was alive, that did not mean Rex would be. He was the expendable one of the two, Cody had known.

So he had accepted that his  _ ori’vod _ was probably dead - it was that or worse things.

But he's  _ not _ . Rex isn't dead. Cody barely manages to keep his expression steady, unmoved - as it is, his breathing stutters, and he sets his datapad carefully to one side, clenches his hands into fists against his legs. So they’re alive. Both of them. And sent a transmission.

“Did they trace it?” he asks, abruptly. Realizes too late that he has cut Kenobi off mid-sentence.

“Yes,” Kenobi says patiently. “I told you, they traced the signal to a Trandoshan moon. They were taken by sport hunters. The Council is sending us and the 501st and 104th to get them back.”

Cody shrugs off his General’s hand, pushes himself to his feet, and grabs his helmet, all in one motion. “I’ll have them ready to go, sir.”

But Kenobi catches his arm again, and Cody doesn’t understand why (they need to go  _ now _ , he has to get his  _ ori’vod _ back, make up for failing him), even when Kenobi puts his arms around his shoulders. Cody stands and tries to be neutral about the whole thing.

“We’re getting him back, Commander,” his General says, calm and warm, and Cody nods, steps back so Kenobi lets go of him.

“I know, sir.”

_ He’s getting Rex back _ . Really, truly. Alive. He doesn’t really  _ feel _ it, doesn’t understand- he’s still frozen stiff, something sticking, keeping him from  _ believing _ . He needs to know, for sure, has to see- so he puts his helmet on, turns and barks at Hang-up, “Get kitted up! Seven minutes, max!”

And Kenobi hugs him  _ again _ , hard, and Cody stiffens, but it seems like maybe his General needs this, so he puts one arm around Kenobi’s back, awkward, until the Jedi lets go. And Cody turns back to his men to give them the mission briefing, the  _ good news _ (the impossible news) that his  _ ori’vod _ isn’t dead.

Cody’s going to get him back. And little gods preserve anyone who tries to get in his way.

~~~

Jesse is pacing.

Kix doesn’t particularly  _ like _ seeing Jesse pace; his  _ ori’vod _ only paces when everything is just too  _ much _ and he can’t stay  _ still, _ because if he’s too still he might shatter. His  _ vod _ looks (and feels, in that far-off corner of his mind) exhausted, but every time Kix tries to get him to sit down, Jesse shakes his head, shoves Kix’s hands away, and goes back to pacing.

It doesn’t help, Kix thinks, that General Skywalker is pacing right alongside Jesse, arms crossed, staring a hole through his boots. They’re all  _ worried, _ Kix knows; it’s been an hour, maybe more, since they  _ received their mission, _ and who knows how long ago that transmission was sent? So the Captain and the Commander were alive when they  _ sent that, _ but--who knows if they still are. Or will be, by the time the battalion finally arrives.

_ (They are alive, little one, you know this.) _

Kix shakes his head, sighs, paces over to the General and says, firmly, “Sir, you need to  _ sit down. _ I know I can’t  _ force you _ to sleep,”  _ (you could, little one, let me help) _ “but at least sit down and  _ rest. _ You’ll be no help to the Commander or the Captain if you’re half-dead from exhaustion by the time we arrive.”

“I can’t just--sit down,” Skywalker snaps, which is unsurprising. “I need to--”

Kix cuts his General off, gritting his teeth and grabbing the Jedi’s forearm. “Sir, with all due respect, pacing isn’t going to get us there faster.”

“I  _ know, _ Kix!” Skywalker jerks his arm away, presses the heel of his hand into his forehead and twists his fingers into his hair. “I just… I need to be there.”

“I know, sir,” Kix says, soothing as he can. (His General is so  _ scared, _ so upset, so frustrated, and it’s almost  _ easy, _ just a little nudge here,  _ calm, relax, easy.) _ “I know. But you  _ know _ Ahsoka, the Commander, you know she can take care of herself. With you as her Master, how could she  _ not? _ She’ll be alright, sir.”

“And what about Rex?” The General whirls, but he looks--not angry, more  _ sick, _ and helpless. “If anything happens to him, I don’t--know how I could forgive myself.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Kix says, quiet. “It happened, sir, and none of us--we weren’t there for them. But it wasn’t our  _ fault.” _ Maybe, if he tells himself it enough times, he’ll believe it, too.

Skywalker sighs, tired, rubs at his eyes. “You’re right, Kix,” he admits heavily, shakes his head. “It’s just…” and he gestures vaguely, sighs again. 

“I know, sir,” Kix repeats. “Come on, let’s go sit down somewhere. Jesse, are you coming?”

~~~

Jesse cannot sit down. Will not. He should, Kix is right, but there’s too much anxious energy and adrenaline burning shivery through his veins and right now he thinks sitting  _ still _ would be impossible.

“I’m okay, Kix,” he says.

Kix points at a seat, glaring at General Skywalker, then turns his attention back on Jesse. “ _ Ori’vod _ ,” he sighs, “you can’t pace the whole way there.”

Seven steps forward, seven more back the other way, that’s what he’s been doing. “I know. I’m not going to. I just- I need to.”

“Jesse, why do you always do this?” Kix steps into the path of his pacing, cuts him off on five steps, lowering his voice. Jesse needs to keep pacing. He pushes Kix out of his way, counts six, seven, turns and one, two, three, four, five, six- Kix grabs him again. “They’re  _ fine _ ,  _ vod _ , we’re getting them.”

Jesse knows that. But he won’t feel better about it until he sees them, until he doesn’t have to be Captain anymore. Until kriffing Commander Lareen is out of their battalion, hells.

Still, somehow, Kix’s hand on his elbow is calming, more than usual, and he swallows, pushes forward enough to count  _ seven _ steps, then rubs his head and sighs. “I just- I want things to go back to normal, Kix,” he says, low. “I  _ hate _ being Captain.”

“You put Hardcase on KP, it can’t be that bad,” Kix says, smiling just a little, and Jesse relaxes a bit more, huffs a small laugh.

“That was fun,” he admits. Hardcase is a  _ dumbass _ , worse when the Captain isn’t here, as it turns out. “But I still hate it.”

“I know. Not much longer.”

Jesse turns to look at Kix, sees his  _ ori’vod _ looks deeply concerned, so he takes a long, deep breath and nods. “I’ll sit. As long you leave me alone,  _ vod _ , hells.”

Kix scowls at him, but he doesn’t really look angry, and Jesse lets out a careful breath, feels some of the tension bleed out of his shoulders, some of the adrenaline. He goes to sit close to General Skywalker, folds his hands together and taps his middle finger in a loose pattern against the back of his hand.

“Hey Kix,” General Skywalker says, and Jesse looks up at him, and at his  _ ori’vod _ , who’s leaning against the wall, “after this is all over, we gotta talk.”

“Sure thing, sir,” Kix says, but he shoots Jesse a look, and Jesse taps his hand faster, frowning and shaking his head just a little.

He’s sure this has nothing to do with it, but still, if General Skywalker has found out about Kix’s- the longnecks called it a  _ dangerous genetic defect _ , and no one is supposed to know about it. Least of all the Jedi or GAR officials. Even their  _ vode _ aren’t supposed to know.

But for now, he has to not worry about that or he’ll need to be on his feet again. They’re going to get his Captain and Commander, which is good. This is good, and it will make everything normal again, make it all make sense. He knew they were alive, he’d  _ said _ . And Kix was wrong, which is  _ very _ satisfying to get to say.

So this is good. This is better. Still, he taps his pattern on the back of his hand and doesn’t look at anyone for too long. He can’t, not until they have their real Captain back.

~~~

Ahsoka wakes up to find she’s shifted in the night, or  _ one _ of them did; Rex is curled almost all the way around her, an arm over her side and his hand curled around her headtail. His face is pressed against one of her montrals, and she sighs, keeps her eyes closed and clings to the edges of sleep.

Because once she wakes  _ up, _ they have to go, to move. And she doesn’t  _ want _ to. She wants to stay here, where she’s safe and warm, until Anakin comes.

But today is a hunting day. And they can’t stay here for long, or the hollow will be found. And she doesn’t want that, either. It’s safe, here.

But… Rex.

She grumbles a little, brings one hand up to curl over his wrist, and she hangs on, sighs and tries to ignore the fact that, while the rest of her burns are just dull background aches, her leg still spits and burns. Kriff. She’d forgotten about it.

Someone’s moving around, speaking; she doesn’t bother to open her eyes, stays tucked soft and warm and happy up against Rex’s side. Safe. It’s nice, she thinks muzzily, to be safe.

The footsteps come closer, and then there’s a touch on her burned leg--she jerks a bit, instinctive, tightens her grip on Rex’s wrist, but there’s soothing relief and when she cracks one eye open it’s just Chewbacca. So he’d seen the burn, then. And she’s fine.

Good.

Ahsoka closes her eyes and tucks her head back where it was, sighs again. She  _ knows _ they have to move, and she will. In a minute.

Just another minute.

~~~

Rex wants to sit up, but as it turns out, that’s hard to do with both arms around a very sleepy Ahsoka who’s also holding his wrist. His burns are all still numb,  _ cool _ even, and he sighs, tightens his arms around her, and closes his eyes for a minute. They need to go, need to be ready for when the Republic arrives.

_ Finally _ . They’ll get to go home soon.

Chewbacca barks something unnecessarily long-winded, and Rex taps Ahsoka’s back for a translation. She grumbles, then says, “He said we have to wake up. Basically.”

He’s right. They’ve stayed too long already, today.

Still, he lets her sit up first, her slouched posture and scowl and slow movements all saying  _ I am not happy about this _ . He probably shouldn’t laugh about that.

So he just smirks a little and shoves himself upright, off the floor, blinking sleep from his eyes. It’s more effort to get himself to his feet, but he manages, although he just wants to go back to sleep. He thinks he’d better still be careful on his leg; the cuts look no better, and pain or no pain, the injuries can still be exacerbated.

They show Chewbacca their basket of food, the contents of which he eyes with a disappointed grumble. He takes a couple tubers, though, and starts chewing. Rex does the same. They still taste marginally better than rations, and when he eats berries at the same time, that’s pretty damn tasty. Ahsoka apparently thinks that’s  _ disgusting _ .

He doesn’t care, so he takes a drinks of water and pulls a face at her, which makes Chewbacca and Kalifa laugh a little. As long as they’re careful today, and don’t get sloppy -  _ soon _ . Soon they’ll be safe.

~~~

Ahsoka eats quickly, steals the gourd from Rex so she can drink, and, when he makes a face at her, she reaches over and taps his nose. Which just makes him wrinkle said nose and grumble at her, but she doesn’t  _ care. _ If he’s gonna be annoying like that… 

Soon, they have to  _ go, _ though, and so she pushes herself up from the floor (and everything tilts a moment, and she takes a deep breath), tightens her hands comfortingly around her vibroblades for a moment before saying, “Ready?”

Kalifa looks over at Jinx before nodding. “What’s the plan, Ahsoka?”

“I think--once they get into the system,” Ahsoka says, hesitant, “I think Anakin should be able to feel me. To bring a transport down for us, or a shuttle, or whatever it is they brought, they’ll have to land on the beach. So I think we should wait there.”

“They won’t want to let us go,” says Jinx, tiredly, rubbing at his eyes.

Ahsoka pauses, on the edge of the hollow, ready to make the jump. “I don’t think we’ll be alone,” she says carefully. “As long as we can stay out of the way until the Republic gets here, I think we’ll be fine.”

She jumps out onto the branch, lands lightly, turns to look back and make sure Rex and the others cross easily too. And then it’s just the silent, slow, creeping walk to the beach, to the tunnel they’d hid in the day before, while waiting for the prisoner ship to land.

Except the beach isn’t deserted, today.

Some five or six speeders are gathered around, and Ahsoka spies Garnac there, waiting, looking smug, and no. Oh,  _ no. _

They’re going to have to  _ fight, _ and there’s too many. They don’t have enough weapons. Still, they’ll have to try. Assuming the Council was paying attention, got the transmission and traced it right away, they could be here  _ soon. _ So they just have to--hide. And stay alert.

They can do that. Right? It won’t be  _ too hard. _ It’s just survival. If they’re quiet enough, maybe they can even stay here--

It’s when the first Trandoshan sniffs and looks around, like he’s trying to figure out where they are, that she realizes--she’s not hiding their scent, hasn’t been, and they only have  _ minutes _ until their location is discovered.

Oh no.

~~~

Rex sees it, the moment the hunters go still, shift their heads up, sniffing, tongues flicking out to taste the air, and he knows they have minutes.  _ If _ that.

Some thirty, thirty-five Trandoshans on speeders with rotary blaster cannons.

They're all injured, all but Chewbacca - the Trandoshans are bigger than them, as big as Chewbacca, so no advantage there.

They have three weapons, none long-range.

They can't outrun speeders.

Ahsoka can't deflect the blaster bolts.

They have to get away long enough for the Republic to arrive, then they'll be safe.

But they can't outrun speeders, not anymore, not injured like this, with no head start. And they can't all fight.

Somebody has to buy them time.

They need to protect the younglings. His General needs Ahsoka, and his battalion needs one of them (needs a Commander more than a Captain), and he can't let anything happen to her. He twists his hand around his wrist for a second, just a second, indecisive.

If someone has to hold them off, it has to be him.

“‘Soka,” he says, quickly, letting go of his forearm. “Take the younglings and Chewbacca and get the kriff out of here. Now. I'll buy you time to lose them.”

He knows better than to think she'll just  _ listen _ , although he wishes she would - she goes so, so still, eyes flicking over his face like she's trying to confirm that he's  _ said that _ , then she shakes her head, hard. “No! No, if we go  _ now _ we'll be fine, we have time, they don't know where we are yet,” she hisses. “I'm not kriffing leaving you.”

He meets her eyes, holds them, and the ocean blue helps. This is  _ important _ , she has to listen. “You have to. You need to keep the younglings safe. I can't run, I'll slow you down. Somebody's gotta buy time, and that's gonna be me.”

“Then we  _ hide _ , I can hide our scent, if we just  _ go now _ . I'm not leaving you, Rex, you said we'd  _ stick together _ .”

“We don't have  _ time _ ,” he says, soft and sharp, grabs her shoulder and walks a few steps away from the beach, pushing. “You need to  _ go _ , ‘Soka, right now.”

She shakes her head again, breathing fast, and he swears silently because she needs to go  _ now _ or this is going to be harder for him to do. And he  _ will do this _ , for her, for them.

“I can't leave you, Rex,” and she sounds on the edge of desperate, and he's sorry for that. “I  _ won't _ do it, I promised I'd get you back safe. They need you.”

“They'll have you. Anakin needs you and my men will do without me. You need to go.” Now, she has to go now. He shifts his hand from her shoulder to curl around the back of her neck and head, steadying.

She shakes her head again,  _ haar’chak _ , she just- She's  _ important _ , doesn't she get it, she  _ has to go _ . “Anakin doesn't need me, not like-” She stops, and Rex wants to interrupt, but then she says, fast, “Not like we need you.”

Rex smiles, finds it easy, somehow. “‘Soka,” he says gently, pulls her close enough to press his forehead to hers, breathes steady so maybe she will too. “My own Jedi. It’s going to be fine. It will. I need you to be safe,  _ cyar’ika _ , I need you to go.” He leaves one hand firm on the back of her neck, lifts the other to cradle her cheek, soft. “Please, ‘Soka.”

She tilts her head into his hand, closing her eyes tight, and says, choked, “Rex, I don’t…”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He pulls back a little, but leaves his hand on her cheek. “I’m gonna be okay, alright?” He smiles, holds onto the storm-and-sea blue of her eyes, says, “I love you. So get the  _ kriff _ out of here.”

Pulls his hand away from her cheek and takes a step back, certain, and glances over her shoulder at Chewbacca, meets the Wookiee’s eyes, because Ahsoka isn’t moving, she’s just small and staring. He holds tight to his resolve, nods just a little, and Chewbacca says something regretful and wraps both arms around Ahsoka’s waist and hefts her over his shoulder all in a rush, turning to go.

Rex draws his vibroblade, readies himself, glances up and meets Ahsoka’s eyes as Chewbacca starts to run, and she looks  _ terrified _ , desperate, calls, “ _ Rex! _ ” like she could make him change his mind.

Rex tightens his fist around the hilt of his vibroblade and smiles at her. She’ll be safe, and that is enough.

~~~

Ahsoka is still crying by the time Chewbacca  _ finally _ sets her down, far enough away that she can’t just turn around and run back to Rex. Rex, who’s facing  _ too many _ Trandoshans all alone. Who wouldn’t let her  _ stay, _ who wouldn’t come with her, who said he’d be  _ okay. But what about me, _ she wants to scream,  _ what about me, Rex, I’m not gonna be okay! _ What about his men, what about  _ Cody, _ what’s she supposed to tell them? That she let Rex--

No.

_ I love you. _

No!

“We have to go back,” she says, all in a rush, looking around. None of them will meet her eyes. She’s still crying. That doesn’t  _ matter. _ They have to go  _ back, _ they have to  _ be there. _ “The Republic is coming and we have to be close when they get here.”

_ “We cannot save your mate,” _ Chewbacca growls, warning, and she falters. For just a moment.

And then she nods. “He--he’ll save himself. He’ll be okay.”  _ He lied. _ “But we have to  _ go. _ Hide somewhere, I can hide us.”

She doesn’t wait for Kalifa or Jinx to answer, just turns and takes off, circling back around in the direction they’d come from, constantly scanning for a place to hide. They have to be  _ close. _ Anakin will come soon, he will, and then Rex will be okay.  _ It’s going to be fine. _

He shouldn’t have  _ stayed. _ Nothing will be  _ fine _ if he--gets himself  _ killed, _ damn it. She shakes her head, swipes away more tears, stops in front of a small cave-like structure of woven roots and underbrush. There’s just enough room for the four of them, and so she waves them in, Chewbacca and Kalifa and Jinx first, and then her. 

And settles in to wait.

Closes her eyes, reaches into the Force to sharpen her hearing. She has to  _ listen, _ has to be able to hear. Anything, everything.

(If Rex is in trouble, she’ll know.)

She’ll be able to tell, then, when the Republic arrives. And go fight. She’s not leaving without helping them fight.

~~~

Rex gets himself a blaster so easily it’s almost  _ funny _ , before the Trandoshans can pinpoint him, jumps on a speeder and lashes out with his vibroblade, stabs the pilot and the gunner and exchanges blows with a hunter with a blaster rifle before gutting him too, yanking the rifle out of his clutching hands, and  _ finally _ he’s got something he can use. He shoots the remaining two Trandoshans, goes to grab the controls of the speeder but another of the speeders rams into his, throws it off course and him off balance, and one of the hunters jumps across to him with animal speed and brutality, swiping with long arms; Rex grins and shoots him between the eyes.

The other Trandoshans turn their blaster cannons on him, and he drops to the floor of his speeder, which doesn’t prove to be much protection because the blaster bolts shear through the front of the speeder - and the repulsorlift engines.

Kriff.

Rex pushes into a crouch and leaps from from the speeder as the engines sputter into flame, whips his blaster around to take out the gunners on the other speeders (misses his DCs, a blaster rifle is too  _ slow) _ . Their leader, Garnac, is talking into a bulky wristcomm, and Rex takes a potshot at him, pivots out of the way of an explosive round of blasterfire from a speeder and then another, fires off one two, one two, one two, drops five Trandoshans.

Twists to fire at Garnac again, yanks the trigger, and nothing.

Nothing.

“Damn it.” Remotely disabled. Kriffing banthashit. He looks around, then dives under another round of blaster bolts and charges a speeder, jams the business end of the blaster into the vehicle’s stabilizers and leaves it there. Those Trandoshans jump out of their failing speeder, drawing blasters if they didn’t have them out already, and one of them gives a shrilling call - the rest of the hunters abandon their speeders too.

They don’t look like they’re playing games, but that’s what this all is, nonetheless. Rex backs up so he can see all of them in front of him, holds up his vibroblade and balances on the balls of his feet (although he thinks he shouldn’t, there’s a twinge of pain from his injury, but then what does that matter now anyway) so he can dodge blaster bolts.

All the hunters raise their rifles, and Rex tenses, but then Garnac growls and hisses a little, and instead of shooting at him, the Trandoshans all charge him at once.

_ Kriff _ .

Good strategy, smart.

Rex steps into the first hunter to reach him, pivots away from slashing claws and jabs his blade into their throat, yanks it free in time to tear it across the wrist of another Trandoshan, to lunge past their reaching arms and plunge the weapon into their gut. But then another hunter grabs onto his wrist, claws digging in, and twists until holding onto the vibroblade (his one chance) is the last thing he’s focusing on, he just needs to get that grip off his arm, and he  _ drops _ it. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

The hunter slams a balled-up fist into his gut, and Rex doubles over, heaving for breath, and a hard strike to the back of his neck has him on the ground - but here he could reach for his vibroblade, so he does, and he snags his fingers around the hilt, gets halfway back to his feet with the dagger in hand before someone jams a blaster into the back of his left knee, and he staggers, lashing out near-blindly, feels the knife hit home. The hunter just grabs his hand and the blade, yanks his fingers free from the hilt and the vibroblade free from his own side, snarls wide and menacing, running his tongue over his teeth. Rex just flexes his hand a little and grins, feral. That earns him a cuff across the face,  _ stinging _ because  _ scales _ , kriff, and fast as blinking, a slash of the knife across his shoulder. He hisses a little, staggers back, right into a Trandoshan, who grabs him by the scruff of the neck, slams him into the ground (he tries to fight it but his leg buckles).

The instant he’s down, there’s a chorus of snarls and laughter, and someone drives a kick into his ribs, another into his cut shoulder, and he grits his teeth and curls in on himself, arms over his head as one of them tries to grab him, scrapes his head with careless claws.

And then one of them steps onto his injured leg, grinds it against the ground, and if the medicine had helped at all before it doesn’t  _ now _ \- he clenches his jaw so tight he thinks it could crack, digs his fingers into the dirt until the tearing heat and pressure let up and breathing comes right. They kick his ribs again, his head, and then there are  _ claws _ in his leg, this time,  _ oh gods _ , and it’s ripping and twisting and he has to drag his focus back, lock himself in a corner of his mind where that leg does not belong to him. And he stays there until they stop hitting him, and their hands and feet draw away.

He’s sure it’s just part of the fun, but he shoves himself upright  _ (makes  _ his leg straighten, feels blood run hot down his ankle,  _ gods _ ) and faces the ring of Trandoshans, spits to one side and lunges for the one he’d already stabbed, slams into his injured side shoulder-first- and another hunter grabs him by the leg, jerks back  _ hard _ , and Rex, already off-balance, pain seizing up his leg into his hip, crashes into the dirt, just barely turns his head so a kick from one of the hunters meets the side of his head instead of his face.

He can’t see, and that makes it worse, the flurry of blows from all directions and the claws still biting deeper into his leg, deep enough that he’s choking, can barely cling to the walls he’s pulled up to say the pain is  _ not important, not mine _ . There’s another kick to his head and he grunts, and he needs to  _ get up _ , if he’s up he can fight, and he  _ has _ to fight. So he drags up the walls around  _ himself _ , tight and distant, until the pain is  _ almost _ not part of him, and gets his hands under him, shoves himself off the ground, gets one foot under him too.

One of the hunters snarls impatiently, and the one with its claws in his leg pulls again, yanks him flat on his face, drags him across the ground, and he half-growls and digs his hands into the ground, trying to fight it.

And then someone growls, “ _ Enough,” _ and with a horrible,  _ not-right _ crack and a stab of pain so  _ white  _ that Rex cries out (strangled, desperate,  _ please) _ something drives heavy into the side of his leg, below the knee, snapping it like a twig, and he curls in on himself, reaching for his leg (the Trandoshan lets go of him), panting, because  _ gods, gods, gods,  _ it’s all  _ wrong _ , and agony stabs violent and hot up his spine and it doesn’t even feel like his leg anymore, just  _ hurts _ .

A set of claws scores across his shoulder (he almost doesn’t register it as  _ pain _ too, there’s nothing but the shatter-sharp fire that is his  _ leg) _ , fists slam into his back and side, and there’s a snarl: “So where is the Jedi whelp?” But  _ no, no _ , he won’t answer that,  _ can’t _ (and something exultant laughs that he does not know), so he’s silent.

Silent until someone hits his leg, and he chokes out a broken whimper, curls smaller on himself, even though it doesn’t stop, and someone grabs his head, yanks it back so he can’t protect it with his arms, claws cutting into his skin, blood dripping down the side of his head, and he closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see their laughing faces, and there’s another jolt of pain and a rip of claws against his leg (and it’s all just one thing, now, just agony interspersed with stabs of  _ nothing _ , of no thoughts at all), and he doesn’t know how to be quiet anymore, thinks he’s crying.

And then all of it stops, and he drags his eyes open, and Garnac is bending over him, reptilian eyes gleeful. Rex meets his gaze, somehow, although everything is blurring together in his field of vision. “I’ll ask you again. Where is the Jedi whelp?”

~~~

Ahsoka has never heard Rex scream, before; has never heard him cry, or make any sort of-- _ vulnerable noise, _ anything that could constitute as a revelation of  _ weakness. _

But she is listening,  _ hard, _ waiting for the Republic to arrive, waiting for some kind of  _ signal, _ something, anything saying  _ move now, go now. _ She is listening, and so when she hears a hoarse, pained noise, a strangled yelp of sound torn from a raw throat, she  _ knows, _ instinctively, who it belongs to.

_ No. _

It’s a surge of anger, flashing and red-hot, that sends her to her feet; she whips around for long enough to spear Chewbacca and Kalifa and Jinx with a  _ look, _ icey and imperious and almost  _ daring _ them to stop her, and she snaps out, “I’m going after him.”

And then she runs.

She’d brought them around so they aren’t too terribly far from where she’d-- _ left Rex, _ by the beachfront, had made a mental map of where approximately she is; now she lets the Force tug her  _ back, back, back, _ towards a knot of pain and anguish (and  _ stars, _ how could she have left him, how could she--) screaming in her senses, hurdles over wood and underbrush and tangled plants and twisted thorns, clings to the Force for speed and stamina and strength (and her burns  _ ache, _ her sprained ankle feels like something hot and molten’s driving up her shin to her knee and beyond, but that is  _ nothing, _ it is  _ not important, _ she makes it be so, makes it small and useless and shoves it far, far beyond her senses) and she runs. Pounds across the ground without even  _ trying _ to be stealthy (passes a few other sentients, who have been drawn nearer to the action out of curiosity), and comes skidding to a stop at the very edge of the forest.

Breathes: in and out.

_ Observe the scene. The first rule of the battlefield is to never let an enemy know where you are until you are ready. _

Here: discarded speeders, the bodies of some ten Trandoshans, some with blaster burns, some with slashes from a vibroblade.

Here: a circle of the remaining hunters, all laughing and leering down at the ground--they pull back some, almost as though they know she wants them to, and that gives her a view to the center, to the object of their disdain.

Here: Garnac, the chief, bending low and light over  _ her Rex, _ snarling at him, making  _ eye contact, _ and Rex is crying, making small little sounds of  _ agony, _ and the rage turns  _ white _ faster than she can blink.

“I’ll ask you again,” the Trandoshan says, slow and pleased, like he’s talking to a child or a fool, “Where is the Jedi whelp?”

And Ahsoka lets go of the Force’s protection, obscuring her scent, steps out of the trees and settles her hands on her vibroblades and snarls out, fierce, “Right here.”

Half the hunters whip around to stare, and she smiles at them, shark-sharp, calls on the Force and  _ leaps _ high into the air, draws her blades as she soars, and lands right in the center of the huddle, a foot on either side of Rex’s curled form. Unfortunately, Garnac  _ moves, _ just in time to avoid getting decapitated.

Lucky him.

She snarls, feral, shoves  _ out _ with both hands, throws the Trandoshans to the ground like toys, and snaps out, harsh and ice, “A challenge, Chief, from one hunter to another. Or do you not have the  _ honor _ for that?”

Garnac levers himself off the ground, smirking, and says in a laughing rattle, “You’re offering my revenge to me on a plate and you think I’ll turn it down? I’ll even make it  _ easier _ on you, Jedi youngling, and let you choose the weapons,” and he grabs a long vibroblade of his own, holds it like someone who’s fairly familiar with the weapon.

But  _ youngling, _ really?

Her smile is that of a dire-cat cornering its prey. “I’m no  _ youngling,” _ and the words are a  _ growl, _ a rumbling vibration that hisses out of her chest, heavy with  _ threat. _ “And you made a mistake capturing me.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Garnac says, and he lunges.

But he’s never fought a Jedi trained by  _ Anakin Skywalker _ in the art of the saber.

Ahsoka reads his move with  _ ease, _ slides fluid like water to block, snapping her vibroblades up and catching his, twisting away and out from underneath him, smirking and swinging her bare foot out into his right knee on her way by (and that  _ hurts, _ but the pain does not matter, the pain is nothing), and he roars at her and twists with the movement, so she doesn’t snap his knee. Damn. Oh well, it wouldn’t be fun if it was  _ easy. _

Her sensitive montrals pick up the sound of something (several somethings) large and heavy  _ thudding _ into realspace, and at the same instant her bond with Anakin goes live-wire hot with a surge of emotions, and she has to lock it back where it can’t distract her but where he can still feel her and she can still focus. “The Republic’s here,” she says, singsong, and grins, shows her fangs. “I win either way.”

“Not if I kill you, you don’t,” and he lunges again.

She twists out of his way, casually thrusts her blade back into the chest of a Trandoshan trying to sneak up on her, and laughs, mocking and bright. “And then Anakin Skywalker comes and kills you just as easily as I killed your son.”

Garnac  _ roars, _ stabs directly at her stomach, and she jumps into the air, flips over his head and lands in a crouch, her blades angled to block. So, so easy. “I will kill you for that!”

Ahsoka laughs, again. “You will, will you? You know,  _ killing me _ means you have to get close enough to actually  _ hit me, _ first,” which draws him to run at her again. She lets him get close enough that his vibroblade actually grazes her arm before she twists out of the way again, casually flicks one blade up to knock his aside, smirks. “Almost had it, there.”

The sound of engines.

Transport engines.

“That would be the Republic,” she says, snorts, backflips away from him (and kicks him in the chest,  _ hard, _ on the way by). Garnac lands too close to Rex, she sees him calculating the distance, and that’s no good, so she stabs her long blade into the ground, Force-pulls Rex’s vibroblade from where it’s just discarded on the ground, aims and flings it--and it impales Garnac’s hand, straight through the back of his hand and into the ground. And in the extra time it takes the Trandoshan to work the blade free she’s grabbed her other blade up again and crossed the distance and put herself between him and Rex again.

He doesn’t get to touch her Rex, not again.

(There’s the sound of boots, blasters priming, lightsabers igniting, but she ignores that, all of it, focuses in on her goal, which is the spineless  _ thing _ in front of her.)

Garnac gets back to his feet, holding his blade out, and she lets him make the first move again--he is too angry, she decides, blocking once, twice, three times, jamming her blades into the ground again and reaching up, catching his wrist, snapping his arm straight and pivoting in one of the first moves Rex had ever taught her, bending over and using his own momentum to flip him over her shoulder and onto the ground. He makes a very satisfying  _ oof _ sound, the air knocked from his lungs, and she pulls her blades back free from the sand and paces towards him, slinks almost, ready to pounce. 

There’s a light, questioning thought in the back of her mind--Anakin (and she almost  _ sobs _ at his familiar presence).  _ He hurt Rex, _ she tells him in return.  _ Looking for me. Rex is alive. _ Because she thinks the men will need that reassurance.

There’s a feeling of acknowledgement, and then, distant enough it won’t distract her,  _ Have fun, Snips, _ and she  _ smirks. _

Oh, she is.

Garnac goes to push himself up, and she lightly, easily, settles the point of her shorter blade at his throat, puts her booted foot on his chest, her right hand just behind the vibroblade’s pommel, ready to thrust it home. “I’d stay still, if I were you,” she says, flatly. “Move too much and my hand just might…  _ slip,” _ and she lets the blade dip closer to his neck, meaningful. “You are a war criminal guilty of murdering sentients, and by the authority vested in me, as a member of the Jedi Order, I place you under arrest. You’ll find the Senate and the Judiciary are  _ far _ less lenient than I am.”

Garnac twists his scaly face into a grimace, hisses out, clattering and rattling, “I’d rather die on a Jedi’s blade than submit myself to your  _ Republic,” _ and before she can stop him, he whips his clawed hands up, grabs her blade, pulls himself off the ground, and shoves the tip into his throat. There’s a brief silence, a pause, like time stretches out, and then he slides limp and boneless to the ground, and no.  _ No! _

“Damn you,” Ahsoka snaps out, pulling her blades back and kicking the dead Trandoshan’s side,  _ hard, _ and then swearing, because that  _ hurts. _ “I  _ know _ you’d rather be dead, you--you  _ mir’osikla di’kut, _ that’s why I wanted to  _ arrest you,” _ but he doesn’t respond because he’s  _ dead. _ She should’ve  _ expected that, _ why wouldn’t she?  _ Force. _

Hm. Whatever. He’s useless, now, dead, so she turns rapidly, searching for other hostiles, but there’s just--sentients emerging hesitant from the trees (and she sees Chewbacca and Kalifa and Jinx among them, the three of them  _ staring at her, _ kriff, that’s awkward at best), and clones in blue and orange and black paint cleaning up the beach. There’s a small knot of troopers around Rex, and she shakes her head to clear it (breathes, tries to let the anger recede into the Force, except she thinks  _ the Force _ is angry, too), pushes herself into a light run, drops down by Rex’s head.

All the troopers jump.

Anakin, standing over them, just steps over and kneels beside her and ignores her bloody vibroblade and just tugs her into his side,  _ hard, _ and  _ Force _ she’s missed him. Her voice is muffled by his robes, but she still manages to get out, “Is he okay?”

The only answer she gets is a long string of swears from Kix, which she thinks is--not a  _ horrible _ answer. It means he’s not about to die at least. Probably. “What the  _ kriff, _ Commander?” the medic finally snaps out, and she tugs away from Anakin and grimaces.

“Long story, but there was mist that burned, and some creatures with acid blood, and--” and she stops, because they’re all  _ staring at her, _ and right. Right, her face. She shrugs. “I’m perfectly fine, don’t worry about me.”

“You limped,” Anakin says, accusingly. “I  _ saw you limping, _ Snips, and you only have one boot?”

She shrugs again. “I twisted my ankle on the… third day. But don’t worry!” she adds, hastily, because Kix looks like he’s about ready to murder her. “I wrapped it, that’s why i had to cut my leggings short, and I’ve had my boot on the rest of the time.”

Cody, she notices suddenly, is kneeling by Rex’s right side, has both his hands around Rex’s wrist and forearm, and she remembers the bracer and her promise and  _ shit. _ So she goes to push herself to her feet, because they need to talk to--Master Obi-Wan, or Master Plo, since it looks like the 212th and the 104th are both here too,  _ somebody, _ they have to find his armor and her sabers--and Anakin grabs her upper arm and practically  _ yanks _ her back down. Snaps out, “Don’t you  _ dare.” _

Kriff him. “I promised we’d get his armor back,” she says, all in a rush, “and I need my sabers, and we never found their base, we don’t know where--”

“Master Plo will take care of it,” says a familiar, lilting voice from behind her. “Excuse me, Ahsoka, but I need to look at your Captain.”

She nods, quick, scoots sideways just enough that Obi-Wan can get down. Not enough that she’s actually moving  _ away _ from Rex. Instead, she just reaches for his left hand (since Cody has his right) and takes it, settles herself cross-legged and brings his hand into her lap, curling both her small hands around his larger, rough one. Anakin settles a hand on her shoulder, firm, warm, and she leans into the support gratefully, closes her eyes for a moment. “He’s  _ such _ an idiot,” she breathes, after a moment, shakes her head. “He made the  _ Wookiee _ carry me so I couldn’t stay and fight with him. Stupid self-sacrificing--” and she cuts off, because Kix is  _ laughing, _ strained, but laughing all the same.

“Now you know how I feel  _ all the damn time, _ sir,” he says, and then he gets up and comes around to her, says, “Hold still.”

“What--” she starts, and then there’s a pinprick of a needle in her upper arm and the pain from her burns and her ankle and her sore, bruised back  _ finally _ leeches away, and with it most of the adrenaline-induced energy keeping her on her feet. She swears, sways a little into Anakin’s side (and he settles himself down next to her, to prop her upright), tightens her fingers around Rex’s hand, because she’s  _ not letting go of him. _ “I  _ hate you, _ Kix.”

“Good,” he says, and there’s not a trace of joking in his voice.

~~~

Cody leaves his hands wrapped almost too-tight around Rex’s forearm, where his bracer should be - where the only form of protection he had had to offer should be - and looks up at Commander Tano. He wants to… he doesn’t know, thank her, for protecting his  _ ori’vod _ (his safety, the one thing that he has always had, always trusted), but he doesn’t know how.

And he will not speak, because this is his failure - he wasn’t here, so the bloody lines on Rex’s head and the horrible mess that is his leg and the tear tracks on his cheeks and- and Commander Tano, too, her burns and cuts and bruises. Because he had promised, when he gave the armor and the vibroblade, had promised to protect Rex, and he should have been looking out for his _vod’s_ _cyare_ , too, because that is part of protecting his brother.

He had promised, and he had failed, and he could not even get here in time to keep this from happening, and when he  _ had _ arrived - he thought Rex was dead again, for a moment, until General Skywalker had turned to him and Kenobi and Torrent Company and said  _ he’s alive _ . Cody should have been able to  _ stop this _ . Somehow.

He looks up at Commander Tano again, thinks she looks worn, exhausted, although her hands are wrapped so tight around Rex’s that Cody thinks she might never let go. Their clothes are both ruined, and they’re burned and dusty, and he looks up further to the mass of brown fur that suddenly pushes through to stand behind the Commander, two scrawny, dirty children with him. A Wookiee, a Twi’lek boy, and a Human girl.

“Is…” The girl looks around at all of them, shrinks back against the Wookiee’s side. “Is he okay?”

Commander Tano doesn’t really seem to be paying attention (pain meds, and  _ Rex) _ , so Cody answers, his voice level. “He will be.”

He  _ has  _ to be.

Cody rubs his thumb over the side of Rex’s wrist like he’s been doing with his bracer, looks at his leg again (bloody and crooked), because that is what happens, when he does not protect his brother.

Commander Tano shifts, turns her head to look at the girl. “They’re safe,” she says, nods vaguely in Cody’s direction (and Cody wants to say he is not), “The soldiers. That’s Commander Cody. And  _ this _ ,” she tilts her head in General Kenobi’s direction, which is funny enough it almost pulls a smile from Cody, “is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.” His General doesn’t react, because he’s focusing, hand over Rex’s leg, but the girl’s eyes widen slightly and she nods.

Commander Tano sighs, lists further against General Skywalker, and rolls her eyes a little. “And this is the  _ one and only _ Anakin Skywalker.”

General Skywalker turns a little, offers both kids a tight attempt at a smile. And both kids look like they’ve been smacked in the face, flabbergasted. Cody  _ has _ to smile a little, although he cannot.

“They’re Chewbacca, Kalifa, and Jinx,” Commander Tano adds, an afterthought. Chewbacca is definitely a Wookiee name, and the girl lifts a shoulder in a shrug when Tano says ‘Kalifa,’ so then the Twi’lek is Jinx. Cody nods to them again, looks back down at Rex.

They will need to go. His General can only do so much (and Cody glances at him for a second, registers a little weariness but nothing to worry about yet), and they need to get the battalions out of here and get Commander Tano and his  _ brother _ to a real medbay.

“Sir,” he says, quietly, to General Skywalker, “Are we waiting for General Plo to find their things?”

“Yeah,” the General says, and Cody tightens his grip around Rex’s arm. He wants to go,  _ now _ \- but it does not matter what he wants, now less than ever, and they  _ should _ wait for the 104th, but he wants to get out of this hell. (Even if leaving here will not be the end of it, not until his  _ ori’vod _ is healed.) “But we can do that on the  _ Resolute _ . Kix, can we move him okay?”

Kix scowls, but nods. “Yeah. We better.”

Cody makes himself release his fingers from around Rex’s arm, presses his hand against his own right bracer for a second before jostling Kenobi’s shoulder. “General. General, we’re moving.”

General Kenobi blinks, focuses, and then nods. “Right. Thank you, Cody.”

Cody stands as his General does, and Commander Tano tries to get up too only her leg wobbles and she swears, quietly. Thankfully, General Skywalker fits an arm under her shoulders and hauls her up, seeming to take almost all her weight. Good. So his brother’s  _ cyare _ is taken care of.

Kix has Scratch and some of the junior medics bring over a battlefield stretcher and set Rex on it, and Cody notes the kids, Kalifa and Jinx, look pained too, so he waves Scratch over once his  _ ori’vod _ is taken care of, because Kalifa especially is wincing with nearly every breath, partly bent over. “Take care of those kids,” he says quietly. “And have the men help those other prisoners to the  _ Negotiator _ .”

“On it, sir,” Scratch says, and Cody goes back to the stretcher, hovers by Rex’s side like Commander Tano’s doing (she’s somehow managed to keep both hands around his), and walks in measured, perfect strides right next to his  _ ori’vod’s _ shoulder, where he can look after him. Maybe that will be enough to make up for letting this happen. At least he will not let anyone else hurt him, not today. He  _ promised _ . Protection, safety. Shared armor. He will not break that promise again.


	9. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the LAST CHAPTER of this fic!! We're working on another, bet you can't guess what it isss
> 
> (there will either be one or two more fics in this series? depends on a certain Friend of ours that we need to deal with)

By the time they get to the medbay, Ahsoka is barely still on her feet. Anakin has tried to bodily pick her up  _ four times _ already, but letting him carry her (which she… wouldn’t mind, she’s so  _ tired, _ damn Kix and his painkillers, except the fact that everything  _ hurts _ a lot less is nice) would mean she’d have to let go of Rex’s hands, and that’s not an option. So she limps alongside his stretcher, the only thing keeping her  _ actually upright _ Anakin’s arm around her shoulders. And she’s pretty sure Cody is glaring at her, and Kix too, and  _ probably _ Obi-Wan, if she bothered to look.

But she doesn’t bother, so their glares have no effect.

Rex is unconscious--Kix had sedated him before she’d ever even finished with Garnac, which she thinks is probably a small mercy--but that doesn’t keep her from soothing her thumb over the back of his hand, as though he can feel it, as though it could  _ help. _ When really, she can’t do anything.

She shouldn’t have left him.

They get back to the medbay after a bit, and Ahsoka wants nothing more than to collapse on a bunk and sleep for a week, but--she looks down at Rex’s prone form (remembers him curled in a ball, whimpering, just trying to get  _ away _ from the pain, remembers the sound of him screaming) and she can’t--she can’t make herself let go of his hand. Even though Kix is giving her significant Looks, which translate to  _ sit the kriff down, Commander. _ She swallows hard, tightens her grip almost instinctively, looks up at Anakin. “Master?” she asks, soft, and he squeezes her shoulder.

“He’ll be alright, Snips,” he says, and she nods. “You need to rest, though. Lay down, so Kix can look at you.”

Ahsoka looks away from his too-understanding eyes, drops her gaze to Rex’s hand, to his face, to the cuts on his head and his shoulder and--and no. “I--can’t,” she says, shakes her head.

“Commander,” Kix says, abruptly, “I need you to let go of him so we can put him on a bunk.”

Kix has his helmet off, and she looks up, meets his eyes, forces her fingers to unclench. Balls her hands into fists and tucks them against her sides, leans heavier into Anakin’s side, following Kix and Rex across the medbay to a bunk. “Please, Anakin?”

Her Master grits his teeth and sighs. “Fine,” he says. “For a little bit. Jesse, get me a chair.”

“Yes, sir,” Jesse says, and a moment later there’s the screech of plastoid across durasteel--Ahsoka flinches, tucks her montrals against Anakin’s chest to muffle the sound.

“Pick  _ up the chair,” _ Anakin snaps, bringing his free arm around to help, and she pushes gratitude at him across the bond. Thankfully, Jesse listens, picks the chair up instead of dragging it, and a moment later Anakin is scooting it up by Rex’s head.

Which isn’t the worst place to sit, she decides.

Anakin drops into the chair and tugs her onto his lap, says, “Stay out of Kix’s way, okay, Snips?”

She nods, reaches out and rests her palm on Rex’s forehead, leaning away from Anakin’s chest enough, and then tilts her head to one side, trails her fingers down to the dark stubble on his chin. It’s  _ almost _ spiky, and she swirls her fingers idly through it, amused. Anakin chuckles, from behind her, says, “Never felt a beard before?”

Ahsoka hums, says, drowsily, “Never felt  _ his _ beard before.”

The chuckle turns into a laugh. “Fair enough. I’m sure, if you’re  _ that _ curious, you could ask Obi-Wan”

“Shut  _ up, _ Skyguy,” she mumbles, brings her hand back up to Rex’s forehead, because she can lean back against her Master’s chest and still keep her hand there. “He made me leave him.”

“Yeah, he does that,” Anakin says, snorts. “I’m surprised he got away with it.”

“He made the Wookiee carry me.” She’s still pissed about that. “I’mma  _ punch him _ later, he’s stupid.”

“He did it for a good reason, sir,” Cody says, from where he’s sitting on Rex’s other side, and she makes a face at him.

“Still gonna punch him.”

“We got that, Snips.” Anakin is far too amused. She pouts at him, runs a finger across Rex’s eyebrows (so  _ weird, _ why would you have  _ hair there, _ doesn’t make  _ sense), _ smiling a little, shakes her head.

“He deserves it for--” and then she stops herself, barely. Because  _ apparently _ painkillers make her have  _ zero filter, _ and there are some things she doesn’t want anyone to know. “Being dumb.”

“I’m sure,” and Anakin pokes her mind, inquisitively.  _ For what exactly? _

Ahsoka grumbles and shoves the memory at him with a vague threat of dumping Anakin on Tatooine if he ever tells anyone (which makes him  _ laugh aloud, _ which is so dumb, that’s a  _ dire threat, _ the kriff).  _ He told me he loves me and then went off to go die! _

_ Ahsoka… _ Anakin sighs, shakes his head.  _ You should definitely punch him, but I’d suggest kissing him first. _

_ Well I was gonna do that anyway, but thanks for the brilliant help. _ She squints up at him, suspicious.  _ Do you think that--means he wants to--I dunno. _

_ I think that means you should ask him before doing anything rash, like putting distance neither of you want between you. And I also think that means you should  _ **_go to sleep._ **

Why is he like this.

“I don’t wanna go to sleep,” she complains, wants to poke him but that would mean pulling her hand from Rex’s forehead. “I just woke  _ up.” _

“And you’re sleep-deprived and  _ injured,  _ Commander,” Kix says sharply, from where he’s messing with Rex’s leg. “So go the kriff to sleep or I’ll sedate you.”

“No  _ fair,” _ she whines, but she lets her head fall against Anakin’s shoulder anyway. Because she  _ is _ tired, and also Anakin keeps pulling her exhaustion to the front of her mind, which is  _ dumb. _ He’s dumb. “Go  _ ‘way, _ Anakin.”

“Nope,” he says cheerfully. “Not until you  **_go to sleep.”_ **

That, she decides, is  _ decidedly _ unfair…

~~~

Waking up  _ hurts, hurts, hurts _ \- but decidedly less, he thinks, than it should. He takes quick stock of it all: right leg, burns a little; arm stings; his neck, feels off but doesn’t hurt; left leg… nothing. He cracks his eyes open, eases one elbow under him and pushes himself up with a small twinge of pain, sees his legs both swathed in bandages, especially the left. Okay. Good.

He sighs, eases himself back down, catches sight of achingly familiar blue paint next to his bunk and rolls half over, reaches until he finds the two things he wants most: one DC and Cody’s bracer. He pulls both things up to the bunk, wraps his fingers around his blaster with a heavy sigh, the cool metal fitting exactly right in his palm, as it always does. He sets the bracer next to him; putting it on would be too tiring.

Then he manages to focus enough to hear things, too - namely silence, which it hadn’t been silent when he woke up, now it is, so he notices - and Kix says, very deliberate, “Captain, why can’t you set a good example for my other patients and  _ lie still? _ ”

Rex wants to sit up again so he can actually  _ look _ at Kix, but that feels like a bad idea. Nothing hurts too bad, but he thinks if he  _ moves _ much… “Sorry,” he grumbles, rubbing his thumb over the casing of his DC-17. “‘m trying.”

There’s a small commotion (and  _ gods _ he doesn’t like that he can’t really see much, even when he turns his head), and Kix says, sharp, “For  _ kriff’s sake _ , sir, stop doing that!”

Rex frowns. Is Kix talking to him, or-? But no, another voice  _ (Ahsoka!) _ says, “I want to go see him.”

“You can’t just  _ get up and walk over there _ , Commander, karking hells!”

Kix is right. Rex thinks. Because of… her ankle, right. Sprained. “You should listen to Kix,  _ aden’tra _ ,” he says lightly, waving the hand not holding his blaster. For some reason, Kix laughs a little. Rex is being helpful, for  _ kriff’s sake _ , what’s so funny?

“But it doesn’t  _ hurt _ , I feel fine!”

Hmm, banthashit.

“Yeah, Commander, ‘cause I just gave you more painkillers like half an hour ago. That doesn’t mean you’re  _ fine now! _ ”

Yes, that. “Kriff you,” Ahsoka mutters, and Rex laughs. (That hurts a little,  _ haar’chak _ , why does that hurt? Probably the Trandoshans. Makes sense.)

“Come on, Snips,” says… someone. Anakin, right. Anakin is here, which is good. There’s a small scuffle of sound, then Anakin marches into his proper field of vision, holding Ahsoka, who looks decidedly grumpy. She’s cute when she’s grumpy.

He shouldn’t tell her that right now. Definitely there’s a reason for that. He’ll think about it later.

Anakin bends over, sets Ahsoka down in a chair, but  _ that’s _ stupid because Rex can’t see Ahsoka’s eyes right now that she’s sitting down, what the  _ kriff _ . Grumbling, he rolls over onto his side so he can see her properly, reaches up to rub his eyes a little.

Kix comes over, holding a jar of bacta, and touches her shoulder a little before reaching up to apply bacta to her headtails and  _ hang on _ .

No, there’s a reason Kix can’t do that, and Rex fumbles for it for a minute, scowling, because Kix needs to not touch her headtails, that was bad- damn it, right. Okay. “Kix,” he says, almost sharp, not as sharp as he was trying for, “don’t. Back off,  _ vod _ .”

Kix raises an eyebrow at him like  _ are you kriffing serious _ , but Ahsoka smiles a little so that’s good.

He needs to  _ focus _ , kark it, things are not making enough  _ sense _ right now. He rubs his eyes again, sighs. “Hey, Ahsoka.”

“Hey,” she says, smiling at him. He likes her smile, has for a while now. He also should tell her that. Later. Some other time.

“You okay?”

She twists to glare up at Kix, eyes narrowing, and snaps, “Yes, as I  _ keep saying _ , I’m  _ fine _ .”

Well, she’s not exactly talking to him, but it’s an answer anyway; Rex snorts.

Then she turns back to him, grins  _ bright bright bright _ , and says, “Look, Master Plo brought my lightsabers back!” and holds them both out towards him.

He smiles, in response, says, “I see that,  _ ner’jetii _ . Got my blasters,” and waggles the DC a little bit, rolls his eyes.

For some reason, Kix is gaping at him. Weird. Shit, wait.  _ Shit _ . Shit. Shit.  _ Kark it _ .  _ Shit. _ Damn painkillers and damn Kix in particular.

“Told you I’d get your armor back, didn’t I?” she says.

“Technically, General Plo got it,” he retorts. She pokes him grumpily on the head, and he huffs. Closes his eyes for a second because he’s tired and Kix is still staring at him. Yes, he  _ knows _ , he said a  _ stupid thing _ . Damn it. Good thing Cody wasn’t here to- Where is Cody? “Where’s Cody?” he says, unreasonably concerned, and he finds the bracer where he’d set it and curls his hand around it.

Ahsoka’s still got her hand on his head. Weird. But nice.

Or nope, now she’s not (which is fine, there are cuts on his head, they would sting); she fits her hand between his fingers and Cody’s bracer, hangs onto his hand. But he wants the bracer back, he wants Cody- He stops himself.

“Asleep,  _ finally _ ,” Kix growls. “Had to sedate him because he hasn’t slept in four days.”

“Karking  _ mir’osik _ ,” Rex sighs, which gets him a cough and a sharp order to  _ k’uur _ from Kix, and a laugh from Ahsoka. His  _ ori’vod _ is stupid.

~~~

Ahsoka tightens her fingers on Rex’s hand a little, can’t help grinning down at him. He’s so--relaxed, which she thinks is due to the pain meds. And it’s  _ hilarious. _ (She’d snuck a look at Kix’s face when Rex called her  _ ner’jetii, _ and it was  _ funny.) _

Also, apparently she’s on painkillers too. Which is why nothing really hurts. She likes it when nothing hurts. 

She’d like it more, she thinks, if she could be  _ closer _ to Rex.

“Rex told me I’m not allowed to use that one,” she tells Anakin sagely, pushes herself off the chair (and Kix  _ growls, _ almost) and settles on the edge of Rex’s bunk. Anakin’s eyes are dancing, like he’s barely holding back a laugh, though she’s not sure why--and Kix throws his hands in the air, dramatically, and leaves. She wonders, vaguely, where he’s going. But also she doesn’t care. He’s being annoying.

She sets her sabers down next to Cody’s bracer, after she moves them to the little shelf on the side of the bunk, and she pokes lightly at the hand Rex still has on his blaster. “Can I move that, Rexter?”

Rex sighs and says, “Yeah,” and she grins and puts the DC with her sabers, scoots herself down so she’s laying down. And then she puts an arm around him, carefully, and tucks her face against his collarbone. (Anakin feels  _ amused _ in the back of her mind, and she sends him the mental equivalent of a rude gesture she’d picked up from Fives.)

Says, muffled by the loose medical shirt he’s got on, “You’re kriffing  _ stupid _ and I’m gonna punch you when my hands feel better.” He’s a  _ dumbass _ and she is  _ not pleased. _ Nope. Except he’s not dead, which is also good. “I killed the chief. He was stupid too. He called me a youngling so I laughed at him.”

~~~

“Good,” Rex says, comfortably, nuzzles against her montrals with a soft sigh. “But I’m not  _ stupid _ , Ahsoka, what the  _ kriff?” _ When has he been stupid? Besides just a minute ago. And other times. But mostly he is  _ not stupid _ . Kriff her.

He should do that actually. But anyway.

“You made the  _ Wookiee  _ carry me so I couldn’t stay,” Ahsoka informs him, a little sharp. “And you got yourself beat up, which was  _ stupid _ , because I could have protected you.”

He gets a little more serious, because he has to. “That wasn’t  _ stupid _ , ‘Soka, I was  _ saving _ you.” And it  _ hurt _ . It doesn’t now, at least. Mostly.

“Well, next time, don’t almost get killed and make  _ me  _ come save  _ you,” _ she says, arms tightening around him (and that hurts a little).

“There’s gonna be a next time?” he mumbles, sighing. “I’d rather not.”

“You’re a  _ di’kut _ ,” she tells him (and wow, the pronunciation, not good). “And you’re  _ terrible _ at goodbyes.”

It takes him a minute to connect with what she means, then he winces and sighs. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Technically, he doesn’t  _ regret _ it, but now that he isn’t dead it seems like a cruel thing to have done. If he  _ was _ dead, it would be a really great romantic gesture, but he’s not, which makes him an asshole.

“That’s not the way I wanted to hear you say that,” she sighs, quietly, and presses her face harder against his chest, tightens her arms enough that he hisses and smacks her shoulder a little.

“Ribs, ‘Soka.”

She quickly loosens her grip, says “I’m sorry,” and scoots back a little. Which was  _ not the point _ and now he can’t reach her montrals to snuggle, kriff her.

He grumbles, fits an arm properly around her lower back and tugs her back against his chest and drops his face between her montrals. “Don’t be stupid,” he says, growly. “And don’t hug me so tight. Then no problem.”

~~~

_ Kriff _ him.

Ahsoka grumbles, curls one hand around the back of his neck and runs her fingers light over the hair there, which has gotten a bit longer and softer, which is  _ nice, _ she likes this. “You have a  _ beard,” _ she says, which is.  _ Not _ what she was planning to say. But he’s tucked his face between her montrals and it’s  _ tickling her   _ and she can’t stop a small giggle from slipping out. “It  _ tickles.” _

Anakin is  _ laughing at her _ in her head. Loudly. The  _ kriff _ is wrong with him?

“I hate it,” he informs her, sighing.

She slides her fingers through more of his hair, snorts a bit. “Well,  _ I _ think it’s cute,” she tells him. “It feels different.” Like eyebrows. Eyebrows feel different, too. “Also, it’s  _ black. _ Your hair looks better blond.”

Why the kriff is Anakin laughing  _ out loud _ now?

“That’s what I thought,” says Rex. “That’s why I  _ dye it. _ And it’s  _ too long,” _ and he trails off into Mando’a, muffled by her montrals (or at least, muffled to everyone else--to her it’s louder).

“Hmmmm,” she says, exaggerated, and cards her fingers through his hair some more. “I dunno, Rexter, I kinda like it. It’s softer.” Which is nice, and feels good on her fingers. (Anakin is  _ definitely _ laughing now, the kriff is  _ wrong with him, _ is there something wrong with her appreciating Rex’s quite-frankly-magnificent hair?)

Rex hums, pleased. “Shut up,” he says, fondly.

She tilts her head back (which elicits a grumpy noise) to wrinkle her nose up at him, and very seriously says, “Make me.”

Rex unfortunately does  _ not _ make her, and instead just closes his eyes, pats her shoulder, huffs out, “Later. C’mere,” and tugs her closer again. He feels sleepy and content, in the Force (and she fights the fact that his warm tiredness makes  _ her _ want to sleep again, she hasn’t been awake for  _ that long, _ she’s not  _ tired, _ hmph), and so she sighs  _ very _ dramatically and snuggles her face against his chest again.

“‘M holding you to that,” she tells him. Anakin is  _ very _ pleased with himself, which is dumb. 

Rex doesn’t respond, except for a sorta-acknowledgement in the form of a grunt, and his breathing is heavy and slow and she thinks he’s probably on the edge of sleep, so she runs her fingers through his hair again and hums a bit.  _ Force, _ she--loves him.

(She’s still  _ not tired.) _

~~~

Kix is very careful as he applies bacta to Jinx’s torn lek, so that he doesn't hurt or spook the kid; it's confusing to him that Jinx is less sensitive about his lekku than Ahsoka is about her headtails. Kix has done his research, he knows that you don't just  _ touch _ Togrutan headtails or Twi’lek lekku - it's an intimate gesture. As a medic, he has to respect that. But he thinks Ahsoka might be more than typically sensitive about it; General Kenobi and then Rex had more or less forbidden him from doing anything with them today, even though she has  _ burns _ that need treatment.

Rex, it seems, is allowed to touch her montrals and headtails. Which Kix thinks he could mostly ignore, or explain away, except there have been rumors floating around the 501st since the Citadel mission (and before, of course, but now Fives seems  _ very confident) _ , and his Captain called the Commander  _ his Jedi. _ And  _ lightning.  _ And  _ Ahsoka _ . And just  _ ‘Soka _ .

None of that makes sense. Neither does the fact that they'd held onto each other, curled up close and cuddled together, that Rex seems more relaxed (not just because of the strong pain meds) than he ever does.

Out of all his  _ vode _ , Kix had never expected his Captain to be the one to find… find someone he would break regs for. Although it seems somehow  _ just like _ Rex to pick the unattainable, a  _ Jedi _ on top of  _ against the rules _ . Rex is what all the troopers are supposed to be like, Kix sometimes thinks, but then there are times that Rex is something  _ else _ , too. Something bigger. That's why they trust him, Kix thinks, because he isn't just a good sol- a good trooper. He's also their  _ Captain _ .

That seems to mean he has decided to throw caution to the wind when it comes to Commander Tano, though. Kix doesn't  _ technically _ need any more proof, but he still sort of wants to go to Fives and admit he was right just so he can find out how Fives  _ knew _ . Because he doesn't really believe it,  _ his Captain and Commander _ , how did that even  _ happen? _

Whatever the case, he thinks it’s good (or at least, could be), that his Captain has this.

_ (And some small part of him says that if Rex can find a way to be with Commander Tano, that if they can have this, that maybe Kix… maybe Kix can listen to it, finally, can reach for the thing that’s been warm and dangerous in the back of his mind for as long as he can remember. Just maybe.) _

So he wraps Jinx’s lek in a bandage, steals glances over at Rex and Commander Tano, and ignores the soft pressure against his thoughts, the  _ I’m here, little one _ . Ignores it for now, but maybe… maybe.

~~~

They bring Jedi healers to work on Rex, in between submersions in a bacta tank, which means that during the brief times Ahsoka is  _ not _ in bacta (or asleep) herself, she usually can’t go see him. Or she  _ could, _ but the Jedi are there, and that’s… no.

She ends up spending most of her time “with” him sitting in a chair, watching while he sleeps, because the medbay is quieter at night and she misses the easy warmth and safety and  _ comfort _ of falling asleep with him  _ there. _ Knowing she’ll wake up and be safe all night long.

She doesn’t like the fact that the medics spend a few  _ hours _ one day messing around with her headtails and a little bit on her montrals, trying to reduce the scarring from the burns, clucking at her like irritated chickens when she pushes them away. They don’t  _ listen, _ just keep talking on and on and on about how she has to take better  _ care _ of herself, needs to let her medic treat her, because  _ if you’d put bacta on these, the scarring would be minimal. _ She wants to punch the one who says that.

Dumbass. Who  _ cares _ about scarring anyway?

Ahsoka goes to Rex after that, curls up tight against his chest and hides her face and lets him soothe his palms soft and light over her montrals, over all the skin the dumb medics had poked and prodded at, until the sense-memory of their cold fingers has faded and all there is is just warmth and  _ safe. _

It’s a couple weeks of bacta treatments and Force-healing before her burns are determined to be healed enough she’ll be alright to resume missions, though the 501st is still  _ mostly _ grounded--with their Captain out for a couple months they have a bit of a break. Apparently, some squads have been out with Anakin, running smaller missions. Jesse’s been acting Captain still (and doing a damn good job of it, or so she’s heard), and the war has been--well, it’s not going  _ great, _ but it’s still going better than it  _ had been. _ So there’s been a bit of improvement.

Even after a couple weeks, though, Anakin still doesn’t take her on very many missions, instead having her remain behind in the Temple, working on the lessons she’s missed. Because fieldwork is  _ way _ more fun than stupid lessons, but… 

Whatever.

About two months after getting back, Anakin drags her on a  _ supposedly  _ diplomatic mission to protect Padme on Mon Cala, which Barriss tells her will be ‘a great educational experience’.

Educational if you like sea urchins, maybe.

Anyway, it ends up being most-decidedly  _ not diplomatic, _ and by the time she returns to Coruscant she’s very  _ thoroughly _ sick of water. And water creatures. And fish. And eating fish. Like, come  _ on, _ is there really nothing else to  _ eat? _ Just fish?

Upon her return, Ahsoka spends the better part of the first day just appreciating being on  _ land again, _ in the Temple, somewhere  _ quiet _ and  _ not wet _ where she doesn’t have to have a glass faceplate on the whole time if she wants to  _ breathe. _ She’d managed to chase Anakin to the medbay, after threatening to set the  _ whole battalion _ on him if he didn’t go (because the  _ kriff, _ you can’t just--not go to the medbay after you’ve been  _ tortured, _ dumbass), which she considers to be an  _ impressive _ feat, honestly. Maybe the only thing  _ more _ impressive would be getting  _ Obi-Wan _ to the medbay.

She lets Cody and Kalifa (who Obi-Wan had decided to take as his new Padawan, after approximately five seconds of consideration) handle that, though. No use getting herself into an even  _ bigger _ struggle.

Rex has been  _ grudgingly _ allowed to return to the barracks, under Kix’s strict supervision; his burns are mostly healed and he’s allowed to walk around with a brace on, but he’s not supposed to have armor on yet. Something about the extra weight being too much, and the armor interfering with the brace, which makes sense. So it’s the barracks that are her destination, after a couple hours of relaxing.

Rex is sprawled out on his stomach on his bunk, reading something--probably reports--on his datapad and making faces at whatever it is. Definitely reports, then. He’s in his blacks, as usual, the only piece of armor on him being Cody’s bracer--he’s had it on almost constantly since they got back. She doesn’t blame him--she hasn’t even  _ slept _ without her lightsabers in her hands, or very close, since then either.

Ahsoka keeps her steps quiet, stealthy, as she approaches the bunk (although she  _ knows _ he knows she’s there), waits for a minute, and then crawls onto the bunk beside him, wriggling her way between one arm and the mattress and dropping her head down in front of him. Which means that if he wants to keep reading reports, he has to do so over her montrals. (She doesn’t think he will; he likes to touch her montrals, trace the lines of color.)

“Hey, Rexter,” she says, muffled by the mattress. “I hate water worlds.”

~~~

Rex laughs, drops his tablet to peer at the melted, grumpy orange mess of limbs that is his Ahsoka. “You're back, I see,” he says, fondly, adjusting so he won't squash her when he moves. “You smell bad.”

“Shut up,” she grumbles. “I took a shower.” She sure didn't take a long enough one; Rex wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “You ever tried living around fish for a  _ week?” _

“No,” he says, “because of  _ this _ kind of thing.”

She twists around, gives him an offended scowl. “Well, if that's how you're going to be, I can just leave.”

Rex quickly tightens an arm around her, so she can't, because he's seen little enough of her as it is, so she can't go. Between his treatment and therapy and her missions, everything's been off, and he hasn't seen her, much less  _ held _ her, at all often enough lately. “Don't you dare,” he grumbles, tilting his cheek against her montrals and tugging her closer. “You can't interrupt my reports like that and then just  _ leave.” _ The nerve of her, suggesting such a thing.

“Oh, was I interrupting something?” she asks archly, rolling a bit over and poking his collarbone. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“You were interrupting the most  _ boring _ karking reports,” he informs her. He hates doing reports, particularly the requisition confirmations. “So please, by all means, continue interrupting.”

She wriggles around to roll onto her back under him, pokes his nose, and he grins down at her, considers leaning down to kiss her, only he’s not sure- he’s not sure if she wants that. Or, more, he’s not sure if it’s okay. So he just grins, tilts his head a little, and she rolls her eyes at him. “I’m glad you approve,” she teases, “because I wasn’t gonna stop.”

He snorts and rolls over, flops onto his back next to her, grits his teeth against a twinge of pain from his leg. She adjusts herself so she’s curled a bit into his ribs, reaches up and skims her fingers over his hair. Which is properly  _ short _ now, thankfully, and blond. He still really loves the feel of her fingers against his head, it’s soothing like not many other things are.

“I missed you,” he says casually. Over the past week, sure, but before that, too. When it hurt too much to hold her and when he just… wasn’t seeing her.

~~~

“I missed you too, Rex,” Ahsoka hums, curls against him a bit more and smiling at him. “Are you--how’ve you been?”

He sighs, smiles just a little, a curve in the corner of his mouth (and she thinks--no, focus, Ahsoka), rubs his hand over her shoulder (which feels  _ nice, _ she’s stiff and sore and her muscles are all knotted up), says, “Fine, I guess. Tired.”

“Mm,” she agrees, dropping her head to tilt her forehead into his collarbone, her fingers still slipping light through his hair. It tickles, feels nice, though it’s  _ pokier _ now that it’s short again. “I liked your hair longer, y’know.”

“Too bad,” Rex says, and she looks up to see him-- _ smirking _ at her, the insufferable--not  _ fair! _

She grumbles at him, trying to ignore the fact that she  _ really _ wants to kiss that  _ stupid smirk _ off his face, and tucks her head down again.  _ Why _ is he like this?

He chuckles, as though he  _ knows _ what she’s thinking, shifts his hand from her shoulder to her back headtail, and  _ that _ is nice, that feels nice, she likes that. She lets out a pleased hum, an almost-purr, tilts her head a bit, a silent encouragement. Stays that way for a moment, and then she sighs, remembering the inner debate she’s been having with herself for the past  _ month. _ Maybe longer. “So,” she starts, muffled by his blacks, unaccountably nervous. Pulls back enough she can look at him, biting her lip, hopes she doesn’t look  _ too _ worried. “Is…  _ this _ a thing we’re--doing again? Like, an  _ actual _ thing or--” and she shrugs, looks down (stares determinedly at his collarbone), swallows hard. “Or is it just gonna--be the same thing as last time? ‘Cause I can’t do that again, Rex, it’s--too much.”

~~~

“I… What do you mean,  _ this?” _ Rex asks, scrambling to put together what she means, frowning because she suddenly seems anxious, and he  _ half _ understands, half doesn’t. He leaves his hand against her headtail, soothing.

“You know.  _ This. _ Us. Are we actually doing this?”

Oh.  _ That _ ‘this.’

Rex sighs, traces his fingers in a lazy circle over the blue markings on her headtail. “You mean am I gonna leave again.”

She doesn’t look at him, just flinches a little and half-shrugs. “Yeah,” she says, small and hesitant.

He sighs again. It’s a fair question. Everything makes  _ sense,  _ sort of, now - but just to him, in his own head. He keeps his touch soothing, light, thinks about it a second. “I’m not leaving this time,” he says, as that seems to be the simplest immediate answer, says it with all the low conviction he’d felt when he decided she was someone he could die for. “And if you still want ‘this,’” he smiles a little, gives a breath of a chuckle, “to be an ‘actual thing,’ then I do too.” There’s a certain amount of nervousness in his stomach, now, because what if he kriffed it up too many times and- and he thinks he’d better not think like that. So he just waits, instead.

She fidgets for a moment, fingers skimming jittery over his head, then says, quietly, “I… Well, I love you, so…” and  _ that _ is still an impossible thing, still makes Rex thrill when he hears it, “I guess, that hasn’t changed.”

Which is definitely good. He smiles, shifts his hand from the back of her head to her shoulder, and bends his head enough to kiss one of her montrals, since she’s not looking at him. “Well,” he says, just a murmur, because he knows she can hear him just fine, when he’s this close to her montrals, “It hasn’t changed for me, either,  _ ner’jetii. _ I still love you too.”

~~~

Whatever she was expecting from him, from her Rex,  _ I still love you too _ was  _ not it. _

Ahsoka holds still a moment, like if she  _ moves _ this moment will shatter, and she’ll--lose this, everything.  _ (I love you, _ she called after him, a last desperate hope, and he’d frozen for just a breath and then said  _ I’m sorry.) _ How--what is she supposed to do?  _ I’m not leaving this time. _ But she’s--thought he’d stay before, in the past, and he’s--but--

He’s never  _ said it back, _ before. Except on the island, right before--everything. And,  _ my Jedi _ he says, so easy, like it’s just a--fact.  _ Her Rex. _

Force.

She slowly, hesitant, tilts her head up to look at him (and he shifts back so she actually  _ can), _ searches his face for--she’s not sure what. Some sign that this isn’t… that this is  _ real, _ that he’s  _ actually saying this. _ Swallowing hard, she forces herself to meet his eyes, rasps out, “You--really mean that?”

He smiles, soft, says, “Yeah.”

Which--she almost can’t wrap her brain around it, but the Force is  _ laughing, _ humming smooth and silken against her skin, and he’s so  _ close, _ and she’s missed him, she’s wanted to hear him say this for--a long time, and so she swallows hard again, tries to get some semblance of air in her lungs so she can speak, bites her lower lip again. Too nervous. She’s not sure why. This isn’t--well, actually. It does make sense, why. She swallows again, because her mouth is dry all of a sudden, breathes through a sudden influx of butterflies in her stomach. In and out. In, out.

Says, her voice barely audible, “Can--” and her throat closes, cutting off the words before she can get them out. Rex doesn’t seem bothered by that though, just--pulls her against his chest, tucks his chin between her montrals, and she presses her face into him and tries to relearn how to  _ breathe. _ Everything is too  _ much, _ almost, she doesn’t know what to  _ do, _ and she just wants--she drops her hand from his head so she can wind her arms tight around his chest, breathes in ragged and shaky. It’s a supreme effort to get words out through the block in her throat, but she does anyway. “Why--now?”

~~~

Rex sort of thinks he’s broken his ‘Soka. Which… wasn’t really the point, here. He holds her tighter, sighs against her montrals. “My own Jedi,” he says, a little regretful, although it doesn’t taste like loss and leaving, this time. “I’m sorry. For the other times.” He takes a deep breath again, presses his hand in a reassuring up-and-down motion against her shoulder blade. “But it’s now because… I’m not really afraid, anymore. Reconditioning was too much, ‘Soka, I couldn’t risk that. For anything.” But on that beach, whether she thinks it was  _ stupid _ or not, he’d  _ known _ . Sure as anything. That she was worth dying for, hurting for. “I didn’t know how to face that, but- I do, all the time, for a-” No, he can’t say that. “I had to know it was worth it, and I’m sorry I wasn’t sure, but- It’s all I’ve ever known, Ahsoka, all I’ve ever had was my _ self _ and losing that - I had to know having you, even a little, would be worth it.” He doesn’t know if she can understand that, if she’ll be upset; he thinks it should have been easier, to think  _ she _ (lightning, sunshine, safety) was worth having.

Even if it wouldn’t last.

But he doesn’t know.

“And is it? Worth it?” she says, pressed against his chest, hesitant.

He thought saying he loved her, twice, and that he wouldn’t leave, would have answered that question - but then he hasn’t been very clear, sometimes, and saying things directly can’t hurt.

It’s hard, though. Strangely so.

“Yeah,” he says, low and soft and certain, like prowling footsteps. “Yeah, Ahsoka, you’re worth it.”

~~~

Ahsoka takes a deep breath, pushes away the lingering nerves, the fear, that this is all a trick, that it’s not gonna  _ happen, _ that he’s just gonna leave again--because she has always trusted him, and he says he’s not going to leave. He says she’s--worth it, which is something almost-impossible, shining like a kyber crystal, and she--this is not something she is willing to let pass her by.

So she pulls back from him, just a little, enough to look up at him again, to trace the lines of his face with her eyes; tugs one arm free from around Rex’s torso and scoots herself closer to him, lets her fingers trail along the scars on the left side of his scalp, the ones from when the Trandoshan hunters scratched him (and she still rages, sometimes, when she thinks of that), down over his cheekbones, swiping her thumb over the bridge of his nose. He closes his eyes and she smiles, just a tiny bit, ghosts her fingertips over his eyelashes, long and black against his skin, and then slips her curious fingers up to his eyebrows, smiling privately, pleased, at the way the hair tickles. Her quest to map out the contours of his skin takes her hand back down to the sharp lines of his jaw, and then, almost cautiously, gauging his reaction, she scrapes the pad of her thumb across his lips (they’re a little rough, chapped, catching against her skin).

He sucks in a sharp breath and opens his eyes, meets her gaze, raises one eyebrow, and she flushes and pulls her hand away for just long enough she can shift it to the back of his head, sinking her fingers into his hair again, and then she leans forward and careful, cautious, presses her lips to his.

It’s just a brief kiss, and then she pulls back, unsure, searching his eyes for--she’s not sure what. Something. Rex just grins, chuckles a little, low in his chest, and the sound reminds her, somehow, of the thunder on Wasskah (she’d learned the name of the moon from Obi-Wan, after)--and then he curls his hand over her back headtail and tugs her in for another kiss and for a moment she loses that entire train of thought.

But it comes roaring back with a vengeance a moment later, as he settles his forehead against hers, and she hums, pleased (and his hand is still on her headtail, swirling in patterns, and  _ kriff _ that’s nice, good, yes), says in a low voice, “It’s like thunder, when you laugh like that.”

Rex chuckles again, rumbling, kisses her nose.  _ “Oran,” _ he says, lightly, and she giggles just a little.

“I know, I remember.” She considers this for a second, then asks, “So if I’m lightning,  _ aden’tra,” _ and she knows her pronunciation isn’t  _ perfect _ but it’s gotten better since she found that online Mando’a course (which Rex still does  _ not _ know about, thank you very much), “then that means you must be thunder, right?”

“If you say so,” he hums, though he sounds a bit confused, and she snorts, smiles.

“I do say so.  _ Oran,” _ and she closes her eyes, lets out a little sigh. This is--good, it’s good. She could just stay here, she thinks.

~~~

How she decided he was  _ thunder _ , Rex doesn't know - but he supposes he doesn't mind. He likes thunder. He eases his hand up and down her headtail, breathes soft and slow and happy. “I  _ am _ sorry,” he breathes, very quietly. “I'm sorry I kept leaving when you needed me, and I'm sorry I couldn't tell you I- loved you.”

She sighs and leans against him, says, “I know. I'm just glad you're here now.” She sounds sleepy and still smells oddly damp and fishy.

Rex smiles, grateful she isn't upset (although partly he wishes she would be, he thinks that would feel more  _ right,  _ like what he should deserve, but then she always surprises him), and goes quiet. He thinks she should sleep - she did just get back from a campaign, after all. “You oughta sleep, ‘Soka,” he says. “I'll be here when you wake up.”

She sighs again, snuggles against his side, so close that he's very glad that his ribs are healed, because her shoulder’s digging into him a little.

“Love you,” he says softly.

She hums a little, smiling with her eyes closed. “Love you too, Rexter.”

His precious Ahsoka. He wraps her up tighter in his arms and relaxes a little. So he has her, she is  _ his,  _ really and truly.

And he's  _ not dreaming. _

~~~

Ahsoka’s seventeenth birthday comes just a couple weeks after the Mon Cala mission, only about two weeks before Rex is supposed to be cleared to return to combat. He’s been pushing his therapy as hard and far as he can without reinjuring himself, even though it leaves him sore and aching--she knows it’s because he doesn’t like his men out fighting without him. Not that she blames him--the weeks when she’d been grounded (quite literally) after Lola Soyu had been  _ awful. _ It’s not that she doesn’t trust Anakin or any of the others, just… She knows it’s the same for Rex.

He’s finally allowed to wear his armor again (damn), but for  _ this night _ she’s said in no uncertain terms that there’s  _ no armor. _ It’s a  _ party, _ not a  _ battle. _

Rex hadn’t been very pleased about that, but he’d given in eventually.

So now they’re all heading down to 79’s, about half of Torrent Company and a few of the 212th (Cody, Click, and Hang-up being the notable ones)  in their greys, most of them attempting to conceal gifts. She’s not really sure  _ how _ they got their hands on gifts--probably used their credit stashes from bets--but it’s… nice, she thinks.

It’s been a while since she’s been to the clones’ bar; the last time she was here she was fifteen and  _ definitely _ underage and she’d been smuggled in by Fives and Echo and Jesse. And then Rex had found her,  _ very irritated, _ and walked her back to the Temple at a  _ fast pace _ with one hand like durasteel around her bicep. He’d lectured her, briefly, about  _ children in bars _ and  _ underage, _ and then she’d asked him (very straight-faced, which was, she thinks, impressive)  _ how old are you, Rex? _ and smirked at him and he’d lapsed into silence, after swearing briefly in Mando’a.

All in all, it’d been a  _ not terrible _ night, really.

But anyway, now she’s definitely old enough to go inside, and Rex isn’t gonna drag her back to the Temple, and it’s her  _ birthday. _ So  _ there. _

“Come  _ on, _ Rexter,” she grumbles, tugging at his wrist. He’s walking so  _ slowly _ and she just wants to  _ get there _ already. And yes, she  _ knows _ his leg isn’t perfect yet, but like… she’s also ninety percent sure he’s doing it on  _ purpose, _ because he  _ knows _ she wants to go.

Dumbass.

(But she loves him anyway. Unfortunately.)

~~~

If Ahsoka would stop being so  _ cute _ when she’s impatient, maybe Rex would walk a little faster. But she’s tugging on his wrist, half-skipping, half-bouncing, and he almost  _ (almost) _ wants to join her. Of course, even if he wanted to, he couldn’t. Because of his leg.

The last time he came to 79’s was with Cody, after Lola Soyu, after he left Ahsoka. They’d sat down in a corner and drank, not talking or judging.

Rex thinks this is decidedly better. So he obligingly walks a little faster, smirks at her when she glances irritably back at him and tugs harder on his wrist. “‘Soka, I’m going as fast as I can,” he says. Which is technically true - now.

“Are you  _ sure?” _ she pouts, and he laughs.

“Yes,  _ cyar’ika.” _ Just because it’s her birthday doesn’t mean he’s going to do everything she says - What would be the fun in that? But he will hurry, because he wants a drink and she is so  _ excited _ and he has a gift for her (one he’s having General Skywalker bring, because he’s not good at hiding things from her).

The streets aren’t too busy tonight, and neither is 79’s - it’s the middle of the week and the war is  _ bad _ , right now - there aren’t many battalions still stationed on Coruscant. That means Rex doesn’t feel so tense, walking the streets without armor - crowds make him anxious. Tonight everything’s just slow, though.

Ahsoka is  _ not _ slow.

She marches ahead of him, even though technically she doesn’t know the way and he keeps having to nudge her in the right direction, chuckling.

He thinks Cody would be laughing at him, if Cody wasn’t so busy watching the streets for threats. Cody hates not having his armor - and unlike Rex, his preferred blaster isn’t exactly  _ discreet _ , so he’s had to settle for a blaster pistol and vibroknife on his belt. But they’ll be to 79’s soon, and Rex and Torrent Company and the rest of the troopers have Cody’s back, so it’s hardly a real concern.

Still, when Rex looks back at him, Cody rolls his eyes and smiles a little.

Cody had questioned Rex, when Rex told him he was going to try to make things work, with Ahsoka, had told him in no uncertain terms that this was a bad idea. When Rex insisted, though, Cody let it go, and he’s been grudgingly supportive since then. Which is good enough for Rex.

They get to 79’s, and Anakin is already there (probably took a speeder), gives Ahsoka a hug when she walks in and says, boisterously, “Happy birthday, Snips!” before promptly settling a flowery wreath-thing on her montrals. “That’s from Padme. I don’t know what the point is, but…” He shrugs, grinning.

Rex thinks whatever the  _ point _ is, it’s  _ cute. _ She pushes the flowers up on her head a little, rolling her eyes up to peer at them, and grins. “Rex, look!” she says, sketches a goofy little curtsy.

_ Haar’chak. _

He smiles at her, shakes his head. “It’s very nice, Ahsoka.”

~~~

A  _ real live flower crown. _

Ahsoka  _ beams, _ gives Anakin a hug-- “That’s for Padme, give her it for me later,” she tells him, and he laughs and promises he will--and bounces on her toes a bit, over to Rex again. “Look,” she says again, bright and brilliant and laughing. 

He just smiles, warm, and  _ kriff _ she wants to kiss him, but  _ secret relationship. _ Right. This is a  _ public place. _ Which is dumb. But whatever. “Come on,” he says, takes her hand and leads her over to the bar, “I want a drink.”

She clambers onto the stool next to him, grins widely. “Soooo,” she starts, as he holds up two fingers to the bartender, “did’ja get me something? For my birthday? I’m pretty sure everybody  _ else _ did.”

She kicks her feet back and forth, takes a sip of her drink as he answers. “Maybe,” he drawls, very seriously, but his eyes are  _ sparkling _ golden-bright and  _ Force, _ he’s so stupidly  _ cute _ when he does that.

She punches his shoulder with her free hand, tries to make a grumpy face at him, except she’s not sure she succeeds very well because he’s still not-quite-smiling at her and that’s  _ distracting. _ And not fair. Damn him. … what was she thinking about again?

Right. Presents. “Well, when do I get this maybe-something?” and she leans into his shoulder a little and looks up at him, smiling again, because she can’t stay serious right now, not with his eyes glittering like that.  _ Force. _ She wants to kiss him.

She still has enough self-control to remember that this is  _ public place _ and she can’t actually kiss him here. Hmph.

“Later,” he says, and then smirks just a little. “Probably.”

_ Kriff _ him.

She swallows, takes a sip of her drink, and then Fives is coming up to the bar on her other side with Echo and Kix and Jesse. He snorts, gestures with his drink at the flower crown on her head, lowers his voice. “Bet you two hundred credits you can’t get that on the Captain’s head for thirty seconds.”

Ahsoka grins, slowly, drops her voice to match his. “Challenge accepted, Fives.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Shake on it?”

She shifts her drink to her other hand, extends it, shakes very seriously, and then grins. “Cheers, Fives!”

“Cheers,” and he salutes her with his glass and downs the thing in one gulp.

Impressive.

“Should I be concerned?” Rex asks dryly, and she spins  _ (spins,  _ the stools spin around, it’s her new favorite thing, she decides) to face him, smirking.

“Nope! Not at all.” And she takes another sip of her drink and leans into his arm again, still grinning so wide it hurts.

~~~

“I don’t believe you, somehow,” Rex says, trying very hard not to laugh at her, her and her spinning stool. “I don’t trust you talking to my men.”

“Oh  _ please,” _ Ahsoka huffs. “I give them orders  _ all the time. _ I’m better at it than  _ you.” _

“Excuse me.” Rex rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “Banthashit, sir.”

“I’m the  _ Commander _ here, Rex. I’m better  _ by default. _ It’s in the  _ name.” _ She holds her hands out in brackets, holding her drink in two fingers.  _ “Command _ -er.” She smirks at him, swirls the drink in her glass, and holds his gaze while she takes a smug sip.

So, while she’s still drinking so she can’t interrupt him, he raises an eyebrow and says, “Wanna try and test that theory,  _ Commander _ Tano?”

She sputters a little, hastily swallows her drink with a little cough. She collects herself for a second (and he smirks  _ wide), _ then meets his eyes again and smirks right back at him (oh dear), and says, “Sure,  _ Captain _ Rex.  _ Sir.” _

Rex swallows, his throat suddenly very dry, but tilts his head and holds her gaze. And Fives  _ whistles,  _ claps him on the shoulder. “Cool it, sirs, we’re in  _ public.” _

Rex twists to face him and  _ glares, _ smacking his hand away, although Fives has a  _ point. _ Unfortunately. “Kriff off, Fives, before I give you KP for a month.”

Fives grins at him, scratches his relatively-new goatee, and turns to Ahsoka (who is still flushing rust-colored, maybe because of swallowing her drink too fast - but he thinks not).  _ “Anyway, _ sir, gotcha something.” He reaches into the pocket of his greys, procures a little holodisk. Rex frowns, a little suspicious - although he knows Fives is probably being serious, gifts are  _ important _ to his  _ vode. _ “This is a recording of, um, most of Torrent Company. Talking about why you’re a good Commander, sir.” He holds it out, and Rex softens, nods at Fives as Ahsoka, hesitantly, reaches out and takes the disk from him in careful fingers, turns it over and over.

“Thank you, Fives,” she whispers.

~~~

Ahsoka swallows, stares at the disk in her palms, blinks back tears she can’t quite explain. Tucks it away in her belt, slips off the stool and gives Fives a hug, just a short one, enough to show her gratitude, and then she pulls back and hops back onto her stool, smiles hesitantly at him.

He’s  _ blushing. _

She’s  _ never _ seen him blush before.

“Uh, you’re welcome, sir,” he says, and then he backs away quickly, fidgeting with his hands. Returns to the safety of the bar and a drink, which she thinks is  _ funny. _ Dorks. They’re  _ all _ dorks, she decides fondly, leaning back against Rex again.

She goes to say something to him, but before she can Brii is coming up to her with a piece of paper, looking even more nervous than Fives had. “I--drew this for you,” he says, sheepish, hands it to her, and  _ immediately _ flushes and fidgets with the sleeves of his greys. (Which are a little too lopsided, like he doesn’t have them on quite right, and that shouldn’t be so funny but--Force, there’s  _ paint stains _ on the  _ sleeves, _ no  _ wonder.) _

Ahsoka unfolds the paper to reveal a colored-pencil sketch of her, just her head and shoulders--she’s focused on something in the distance, but smiling a little, like she’s sassing Anakin or somebody. “Thank you, Brii, it’s really pretty,” she tells him, smiling warm and genuine, and he turns even brighter red and backs up.

“See,  _ vod’ika?” _ Tup says, patting Brii’s shoulder. “Told you she’d like it.” He steps forward, says casually, “My gift is one meal of your choice, whenever you want it,” and he bows overdramatically, flourishes his hands.

“Oh, how gracious of you to save me from my terrible cooking,” Ahsoka says sardonically, and Tup tosses a salute at her.

“You’re welcome, sir,” and he returns his hand to Brii’s shoulder and steers the younger clone away.

The next two to approach are, unsurprisingly, Alpha and Beta--Alpha has a brown-paper package in his hands, tied shut with string, and he looks  _ extremely _ excited, his eyes wide and bright and eager. “Beta and I got this for you, Commander,” he says, holds it out, and Ahsoka takes it with a grin.

Smiles up at Rex, for a moment, and looks back over at Alpha, and pulls on the string with the Force, opening the package with a wave of her hand. 

Alpha  _ gapes. _

Which is  _ totally _ worth it.

It’s a soft shirt, Ahsoka realizes, pulling it out and unfolding it--white, with the logo for Hero With No Fear emblazoned across the chest, across a background of ‘her’ and ‘Anakin’ and ‘Obi-Wan’ and others in very fierce poses. Rex has a  _ horrified _ look on his face, and she  _ grins _ at him, sets the shirt carefully on the bar, and gets off her stool again. Stands on her tiptoes and kisses Alpha’s cheek. “Thanks, Alpha,” she says, very solemnly, barely biting back a laugh at the way his whole  _ face _ turns red and he looks about like he’s been hit over the head with a clanker. “It’s  _ perfect.” _

(She doesn’t think Rex agrees.)

~~~

Rex is going to have to thank his brothers for all this, later. Except for Alpha and Beta, because a  _ Hero With No Fear shirt? _ Seriously? That kriffing holodrama…

Ahsoka gleefully kisses Alpha on the cheek, and Rex just manages to bite back a guffaw at Alpha’s utterly flabbergasted face. “Thanks, Alpha. It’s  _ perfect, _ ” she says, and Alpha shoots a helpless look at Rex, who shrugs and takes a sip of his drink. Beta looks smugly amused, pats Alpha commiseratingly on the back.

“Isn’t this great, Rex?” Ahsoka says, grinning sassily at him. She picks up the shirt off the bar again, holds it up for his inspection, and he shakes his head.

“Not what I was thinking, ‘Soka.”

She snickers, plops onto her stool, and measures the shirt against her torso, apparently to see if it will fit.

(Rex does not mention that Beta had come to him to ask whether he thought the shirt would fit her - or, well,  _ a _ shirt. They hadn’t told him it was gonna be a shirt for the worst holodrama of all time.)

Akaan, one of the older 501st troopers with red hair (a genetic anomaly that he is absurdly proud of) and a penchant for whittling and swearing, saunters over to the bar, drops onto one of the stools, and holds up a hand for a drink. “Hey, Commander,” he says, and he’d sound casual except his hands are a little shaky, “It’s your birthday, right?”

Ahsoka makes a face. “Nope, it’s not.” Rex smiles into his drink. “That’s why I’ve got this flower thing on my head.”

Akaan goes red, clears his throat. “Well, here.” He slides a hand-sized wood carving across the bar - it’s a dire-cat, impressively detailed, shined to a polish.

Ahsoka grins fiercely, picks up the carving and runs her fingers over the carved claws and spines. “Thanks, Akaan.”

“Sure, sir.” He retreats again, and Rex laughs a little.

Jesse comes up next, out of the group of milling  _ vode _ that Rex knows are waiting for their chance to give things to Ahsoka. “Hey, sir,” he says, half-smiling and holding out a datapad with little ceremony. “Your old one broke. So here’s this.”

~~~

Ahsoka almost doesn’t know what to do with all the gifts. The clones just keep  _ coming, _ mostly little things, tokens they thought she might like, little things like Akaan’s carving or a pretty agate that Lofty’d apparently found on some campaign. And then Echo comes up, his hands cupped around something--still a little unsteady on his new leg, but mostly he’s doing fine these days.

“I wasn’t sure what to get you, sir,” he starts, hesitant, “but I--wanted to thank you. For coming back for me. So I got some help and I made you this.”

He opens his hands, holds out a dark blue plastoid (well, mostly, it’s a bit blackened in a couple spots) shape--she realizes as she takes it from him that it’s the Jedi Order’s insignia, and she smiles. The smile only grows when he continues talking, obviously nervous. “My old armor got ruined when that shuttle exploded. The heat baked the paint right into the plastoid. But the pauldrons were salvageable,” and he nods at the token in her hands.

It takes a second for it to click. “You mean--you made this out of your old armor, Echo?”

He shifts, nods. “Yeah. ‘Cause if you hadn’t helped Fives get me out, that armor’d be  _ me.” _

Ahsoka just--stares, for a second, and then she swallows hard and says, “Rex told me what it means, when you exchange armor with someone.”

Echo kinda  _ freezes, _ and then is all rushed, stumbles out, “You saved my  _ shebs, _ sir--er, I mean, you had my back, so--” and then he turns bright red and closes his mouth and stares at his feet. She has a feeling  _ none _ of this was covered in his precious reg manuals.

Fives materializes at Echo’s shoulder, says, “Hey,  _ ori’vod, _ let me get you another drink,” and steers the poor flustered trooper away. 

There’s a bit of a lull, and Ahsoka gets a new drink, looks around curiously for Anakin--he’d been sitting at the bar a couple stools down, sipping his drink and talking to Fives, giving the clones space to approach her, but when she looks over where he’d been the stool’s been taken by Fives and Echo.

Like the thought summons him, Anakin appears at her shoulder, looking annoyed and vaguely concerned. “Figured out why Obi-Wan hasn’t graced us with presence,” he says, sighs. “Council grabbed him on his way out of the Temple for a briefing, and he just commed me--told me to let you stay and have your party. It shouldn’t be anything serious--Umbara’s just formally seceded from the Republic, and it could be a problem if their tech falls into Separatist hands. Shouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary, though, just your run-of-the-mill full-scale planetary invasion.” He rolls his eyes, like he knows how ridiculous that sounds. “Anyway, Council wants me, so I’ve gotta go. Have fun, Snips! Keep an eye on her, Rex.”

“Will do, sir,” Rex says lightly, and Anakin turns and walks off.

“Umbara, eh?” she says, lightly, leaning into Rex’s shoulder a bit--the alcohol is starting to get to her. “Seems like we’ve got ourselves a new mission.”

Fives wanders over, says, “It’s about time. We’ve been stuck on Coruscant for  _ ages.” _ Echo, behind him, still looks suspiciously red-faced, and Ahsoka snorts into her glass and sits up straight.

Sets her glass down and, with a flourish, scoops her flower crown off her head and, beaming, smug, plops it onto Rex’s. “There! Now you look  _ extra _ pretty tonight.”

~~~

Rex blinks for a second, unsure whether to be confused or amused or embarrassed or flattered. He decides a mix of all four is appropriate. Particularly with the odd, silky-itchy texture of the flowers against his hair. He reaches up, hesitantly, intending to pull the flower crown off (because he is a  _ Captain, _ he can’t be wearing a  _ flower wreath _ on his head), but Ahsoka gives him a pleading look, and he sighs, drops his hand.

“This is  _ not _ very dignified, sir,” he informs her, shaking his head.

She giggles, sips her drink. “I don’t care.”

Rex’s face is burning, but he grins at her anyway, rolls his eyes. “Weren’t you just bragging about being a Commander? This is hardly professional.”

Dismissively, she waves a hand at him, shaking her head. He thinks she’s a  _ little _ tipsy, oddly enough. (He’d been under the impression that Jedi did not get drunk, because Skywalker and Kenobi have always been very able to hold their liquor; that does not appear to be the case for  _ his _ particular Jedi.) “Shut up.”

He laughs and plucks the wreath off his head (to her obvious displeasure) and tosses it back at her head, where it lands hanging crookedly off one montral.

Fives lets out a string of swear words, mostly Mando’a, and Ahsoka spins her stool around one-and-a-half turns (adjusts to face Fives), and sticks a hand out, palm up, and Rex groans and knocks back his drink. Go figure.

“Thirty seconds, Captain, you just  _ had _ to keep it on  _ that long,” _ Fives growls, pointing at the flower crown listing off Ahsoka’s head. “And I  _ just _ got swindled outta three  _ hundred credits _ by Jesse.”

“You shouldn’t bet against Ahsoka,” Rex says, although  _ kriff,  _ this is  _ humiliating. _

“Where’s my two hundred, Fives?” Ahsoka crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow, and Rex  _ laughs. _ Two hundred. Fives should know better.

“I’ll get it to you tomorrow, sir,” he sighs.

Rex smirks at Fives, wishes he had helmet comms so he could make fun of him. As it is, a raised eyebrow does the trick just as well.

Ahsoka swivels back around to look at him, adjusts her crown to sit properly on her head, and grins brightly at him. “You looked  _ cute _ in this, Rexter.”

He looks down, fast, an awkward smile twisting his lips, and clears his throat. “You gotta not say stuff like that, Commander.”

Snorting, she leans into his space and slides a hand into his hair, and pushes up, definitely wanting to kiss him - and as much as Rex regrets it, this bar is full of people who are  _ not _ his battalion and can’t know about  _ this, _ so he gently takes her by the shoulders and eases her back down onto the stool. “Not the best time, ‘Soka.”

She pouts at him (no surprise there), and he chuckles at her, leans back and crosses his arms. He should maybe be more concerned about this, but everything’s fine, Torrent Company is all here, and it’s just gifts and happiness tonight. No one will care if they’re a little care _ less, _ it’s Ahsoka’s  _ birthday _ and they are on leave.

He waves a hand for another drink and winks cheerfully at Ahsoka.

~~~

By the time they’re getting ready to leave 79’s, the only two clones who haven’t approached Ahsoka to give her  _ some _ kind of gift, whether it’s an offer like Tup’s or something more substantial, are Cody and Rex himself.

Anakin hasn’t returned, which--isn’t surprising, really, especially with a major, technologically-advanced world like Umbara suddenly changing sides, but it  _ is _ a bit disappointing. She would’ve liked to spend more time with him.

Oh well. It’s not like she doesn’t spend  _ most _ of every day with him, already, as his Padawan.

Rex is trying to tug her outside, which is understandable, it’s time to go, but she pouts at him, says, “You haven’t given me my  _ present _ yet, Rex.”

“I know,” he says lightly. “I think Cody has it, and he’s outside. So if you want to get it tonight, we have to go.”

She grumbles, but lets him lead her out anyway. As promised, Cody is waiting outside, looking  _ grumpy _ and tired--she suspects it’s because he doesn’t have his armor on, and he couldn’t carry his favorite blaster without it. Too bad for him. It’s not like they’re gonna get attacked in  _ 79’s _ of all places, and if they do… she has her sabers. It’s fine.

But anyway. Focusing. 

Cody’s holding a plainly-wrapped package, looks like cloth instead of paper, something simple, and Rex steps forward to get it from him, holding it carefully--but not like it’s fragile, like it’s something  _ important. _ She smiles a bit and he hands it to her, says wryly, “I got this for you because your self-preservation instincts are  _ terrible, _ and… I want you to be safe, you  _ di’kut.” _

She flips back the cloth cover, careful, revealing--

_ Force. _

It’s a piece of armor, lightweight and flexible, like the shoulder and chestpiece Obi-Wan wears but in black--lighter, thinner,  _ smaller, _ but--armor. For  _ her. _ She blinks at it for a minute, and then goes, “So  _ that _ was why there was an extra requisition put out, I was supposed to be doing the paperwork and Anakin wouldn’t  _ let me. _ He  _ always _ makes me do it.” 

She grins up at him, because joking aside, she remembers  _ it means you’re keeping each other safe, even if you aren’t there, _ remembers him gripping his wrist so tight, missing Cody’s orange-striped bracer. Says, quietly, “Seems like everybody’s trying to keep me safe now,” but she steps into his arms anyway, gives him a tight hug and leans her head into his chest. “Thank you, Rex.”

“You’re welcome, ‘Soka,” he says, equally soft, hugs her a moment and then steps back. “I’m gonna go find a taxi to take us back.”

Ahsoka nods, turns a bit hesitantly to Cody, holding the armor against her chest. (Rex has a backpack over one shoulder, with the rest of the gifts in it, but this one she’s keeping with her. Just like Fives’ holodisk and Echo’s armor piece are in her belt pouch.) “He told me about the exchanging armor thing,” she says, slowly, frowning a bit--Cody’s face is  _ impossible _ to read, like always, but she gets the sense he might not exactly  _ approve _ of her. “On Wasskah. He kept grabbing his arm and he was hurting himself, so I asked why.” 

She’s not entirely sure why she feels the need to  _ justify _ her knowledge to Cody, but… it’s something about his eyes, she thinks. Dark and unreadable. Like he’s studying her.

~~~

Cody likes Commander Tano.

All the  _ vode _ do - she is cheerful, energetic, enthusiastic. These are rare things among his brothers, these days, so there is not a  _ vod _ who meets her and doesn’t want to stick around her. She makes things seem  _ not so bad _ by pure force of will, and that, Cody thinks, is good for her men.

But Cody cannot quite forgive her for letting his  _ ori’vod _ be so  _ stupid. _

He is happy that Rex has this, in one way - Rex has been  _ happy, _ and she keeps him safe, and those two things are good. Rex happier is good.

But he will not lose his brother to this, and he wonders if Commander Tano understands that.

It doesn’t help, somehow, that she knows about the armor, and him  _ failing Rex. _ If he had been there, like he should have been, if the armor was any use, if he hadn’t broken the promise-

And now Rex has given Commander Tano armor. Which is a promise of protection, and not one Rex will break - not lightly. Did he explain that to her, really? Cody isn’t sure.

“So you understand,” Cody says, still-water smooth, “what that means?”  _ What my ori’vod would do for you? _

The Commander nods, and Cody watches her eyes, thinks she  _ does. _ “He tried to die for me once already. Guess this is just making it official.” She curls her lips in a sorry attempt at a smile, and Cody does not close his eyes or look away because he would not want Rex to be different, to  _ not  _ be selfless, and yet he does not know what he’ll do when his brother finally doesn’t make it out of one of those damn last stands of his.

The Commander’s holding her new armor piece very tight to her, and Cody thinks she understands that, too.

He allows himself a small sigh, a slight shift in his stance, and says, “I am not going to let them take him from me. Not because of you.” He holds her eyes, watches the expression in them - it’s easy to read. He’s not sure whether that’s good or not. She doesn’t flinch.

“Neither am I.” She is firm, low, solemn. “I swear, on my  _ life.” _

And that is only right, because Rex would die for her, has offered her  _ protection. _ So this is an oath she  _ owes him. _ Cody inclines his head, slightly, in acknowledgement. “Good.” He glances over at Rex, his somewhat oblivious  _ ori’vod, _ and then reaches into his belt for his own gift for her. A pair of gloves, no fingers, leather like her bracers. She’s not careful enough with her hands. “Here, Commander,” he says gruffly, and she looks down at them and takes them with a small smile, tugs them onto her hands and makes a comically shocked and pleased face, half a smile, half gaping.

She flexes her fingers, curls them into fists, and grins a little, and Cody huffs a small breath through his nose. This is why they like her, why he thinks he can accept his brother’s decision to risk  _ too much _ for her.

It is a small piece of protection, this gift, whether she knows it or not. Because Cody may not want Rex risking himself, for this, but Cody will not let anything happen to Commander Tano any more than he would let anyone hurt Rex himself. Not when she makes his  _ ori’vod  _ so happy.

_ Ori’vode  _ means he protects them.

Means he will not let Rex down.

Not this time.


End file.
